


come what may

by Yana of the Arcana (sad_goomy)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Denial of Feelings, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Multi, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, med student julian, not sure what else to tag this nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_goomy/pseuds/Yana%20of%20the%20Arcana
Summary: A medical student walks into a curio shop.The joke is how long these two deny their feelings for each other.





	1. poison in the kitchen

 

* * *

 

_In which Yana has a weird job._

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry,  _what_?" 

Julian has gotten used to hearing Yana say rather outlandish remarks far too nonchalantly, but this one takes the cake by far. 

She takes another sip of her tea, sitting behind the counter and watching him as he slumps in his customary chair in the curio shop, right in the window and surrounded by drying herbs hanging from the ceiling. He's just gotten off his shift at his latest residency, and as became their custom he immediately went to her shop so the two could get dinner together. 

They decided that they'd rather cook than eat out, and Yana's casual explanation of why they can't use her kitchen is what's currently leaving Julian gaping. 

She repeats herself slowly. "We can't go to my place since I'm making poison in the kitchen." 

He stares at her, but she doesn't break. "You're...you're  _serious_." 

"Incredibly so." 

"What do you need poison for?" 

"It's not for me, it's for a customer." 

"And the question still stands, what do they need poison for?"  

She chews her cheek for a moment. "Poison might not be the right word. It's a potion meant to give someone bad luck." Yana shrugs, a smirk tugging at one corner of her lips as she explains, "Mostly it just smells awful in my apartment right now." 

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ' _unbelievable'_  and Yana hides her grin by finishing the last of her tea, setting the mug down on the old mahogany counter. Julian runs a hand through his hair, crossing his foot over his knee as he looks at her with a lopsided grin. "It's a wonder you haven't been evicted yet." 

"I'm not the one who nearly burnt down an entire building." 

"No one ever told me you aren't supposed to put metal in the microwave!" Her laugh fuels his scowl, though it can never last for long when he sees her smile. 

"You're the dumbest medical student I know," she teases, voice full of warmth and eyes betraying her growing fondness for the young man. If he keeps visiting her shop, she has a feeling his charm is going to win her over completely (as if it hasn't already). 

He laughs, giving her a smarmy smirk. "And you're the rudest shop keep I know." 

She shrugs with a smile, standing from her seat behind the counter and stretching her arms above her head, hearing a satisfying crack in her back. "Well, if we're going to eat anytime soon then we better start closing up shop." 

While Yana takes out her keys to lock up the cabinets and display cases, Julian remains seated, watching her with a raised brow. "We?" he parrots with feigned indignance, though the scowl she gives him when she stops next to his chair triggers a chuckle at her expense. 

"Yes  _we,_  now get up and help me." She gives his leg a playful kick and turns to begin her closing ritual, knowing that as much as he might argue now, within minutes he'll be up and mopping up the floors for her. It's strange to think that the medical student stumbling into her shop asking to see her ex two years ago is now a constant presence – one she doesn't want to get rid of any time soon (or maybe any time ever). 

Julian watches her locking glass display cases of ingredients and crystals, taking out the more expensive ones to lock in the safe she keeps hidden in the back of the shop. "Technically I'm a customer." 

"Then why haven't you bought a single thing?" She finishes up, the keys in her hands and several jars and silk bags in her arms as she levels him with a smirk. As she walks back towards the counter, she explains with the tone of a scolding mother, "You've been coming in here for nearly two years to study, chat, or disparage magic, and I haven't kicked you out." Before she can exit to the back through the curtained arch, and before he can come up with some excuse, she turns and quips, "And you have the audacity to call me rude." 

He watches her disappear into the back, trying to come up with a retort. Something within him is giggling madly at the exchange, but he does his best to keep his face constrained to a grin; she doesn't need to know how much he looks forward to seeing her. When she comes back out from the back, carrying a mop and bucket with her, he straightens in the chair, puffing out his chest. "You know, I was just about to buy something but now I can't – out of principle." 

Yana rolls her eyes, stopping in front of him and holding out the mop and bucket. "If you help, I'll make blini for dessert," she bargains, only to laugh a moment later at the childish twinkle and awe that overtakes his face. 

"Have I ever told you you're the most generous woman I know?" The smile and wink he gives her as he stands and takes the cleaning supplies from her might be perceived as flirtatious by an outsider. Julian prefers to kid himself and label it as platonic, and Yana is content to remain delusional and chalk it up to his personality. 

(Still, he's lingering for a hair too long and a hair too close for just a friend.) 

She flicks his nose and returns his wink. "And I don't believe you for a second." 

Their laughter fills the shop as she goes to continue her routine and he goes to start mopping up in the back. While he walks, he steals a glance at her to see her small form at the counter once more, going through the register and concentrating on counting while biting her bottom lip. His chest aches at the sight, for a reason he won't let himself comprehend, and he sighs under his breath, "I wish you would." 

 

* * *

 

He doesn't think she hears him. 

She does. 

She spends the rest of the time avoiding his eyes and trying to hide her blush, and Julian is none the wiser. 

 


	2. something wonderful

 

* * *

 

_In which Julian gets read for filth._

 

* * *

 

 

Julian tries to keep his face stoic and his body still as he rests his elbows on the table and watches Yana flipping over the cards slowly and deliberately. Still, he can't help but feel suddenly nervous, trying to decipher what any of this could mean from the spread and the images on each tarot card, but he's at a complete loss. He's not entirely sure why he's agreed to a reading but considering how long Yana has spent trying to wear him down to agree to one, it seems only fair to give in at this point. Still, his comfort zone is nowhere in sight, and Yana remains silent for a long minute as her eyes roam over the formation of cards on the table between them. 

With a nod, she looks up at him with an impish sparkle in her eyes. "Everything about your life makes so much sense now." 

He frowns. "What do all these cards mean?" 

Her hand floats over the formation, fingers landing on a single card as she meets his eyes meaningfully. He swallows hard, the air too thick for him to breathe for a moment. Though he's sworn since the day he first walked into the shop that none of this hold merit, there's no denying that as he's gotten to know Yana, he's become a lot more open to the possibility. Now he's starting to realize he might just believe more than he originally thought. 

"This card..." She stops herself, taking a deep breath and leaning in just a hair closer to him, and he does the same without even thinking. The shop is quiet, with dusk overtaking the windows and the hazy smoke of the incense burning on the table twisting languidly around her face. He forgets how to breathe for a moment. 

"This card says you're a little bitch." 

And just like that the atmosphere is gone and the mystery has faded with her laugh. She sits back in her chair, grinning at his unimpressed face, though he can only scowl with his arms crossed for a moment longer before his own breathless laughter betrays him. "I'll admit that was a good one." 

After recovering from her giggles, she settles back over the cards, gazing over them and nodding to herself. "In all seriousness, this lines up pretty exactly with what I know about you and gives some insight into what I don't." 

He's still skeptical, but he bites his tongue as she goes through the spread, highlighting each card and then weaving them together into a larger look at his past, present, and future life. There's talk of wit, determination, and charisma which makes him sit up straighter with a pleased smirk, but then there's mention of martyrdom, impulsiveness, and isolation that forces his shoulders to hunch slightly and a lump to form in his throat. Though he still argues with her that this isn't based on any fact or science, his eyes keep going to the Hanged Man card, and he feels something deep within him absorbing every word she says. 

"Which brings us to the death card in your future." He doesn’t like the sound of that one bit, but she senses his cynicism and holds up a hand before explaining, "It's not about literal death. It's about change, things coming to a close so new things can begin." His brows furrow, and she gives him an encouraging smile. "Overall, it looks like one chapter of your life is closing, and something wonderful is going to start." 

 _Something_ _wonderful?_  

His eyes meet hers and the air between them crackles with the lightning of his thoughts. She clears her throat, looking back down at the cards as she asks, "Any questions? That aren't meant to try and disprove this." 

"Not really." He watches her gather the tarot cards once more and shuffle them back into the deck, closing her eyes and seeming to concentrate on something, biting her lower lip in the process. He isn't sure for how long he watches her, but a feeling of nostalgia and calm washes over him. 

He gets the feeling that he could watch her like this for a very long time to come, from the moment he first saw her. 

Julian swallows the butterflies flying up his throat, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I think I understand perfectly." 

When she smiles back up at him, he gets the feeling that she has the same understanding. 

 

* * *

 

He still claims he doesn't believe in most of the magic she practices. 

She has the grace not to mention it when he asks for another reading two weeks later. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized I've fallen behind on updating this with all the drabbles I already have posted on Tumblr, so I'll be chipping away at that and just dumping a bunch, oops.


	3. terrible

 

* * *

 

_In which Julian is suffering, a.k.a. a medical student._

 

* * *

 

"Holy shit you look terrible." 

He tries to give her a roguish grin but it barely comes out as a smile past the exhaustion. "What, can you see it in my aura?" 

"I can see it on your face." She smirks, watching him walk from the doorway of the shop to his chair by the window, dropping his bag along the way. 

Yana's used to seeing him tired – it comes with the territory of medical school, as he's explained. Still, the bags under Julian's eyes seem heavier, his entire posture is slumped unevenly, and there's a dark cloud seeming to hang over him. She opens her mouth to ask how many cups of coffee he's had today but thinks better of it because she knows the number will be terrifyingly high. 

Julian runs a hand through his hair, though it does nothing to tame it. She bites back a giggle at the sight of his bedhead as she gets up from her seat behind the counter. "Your rotation stressing you out?" 

"Just need to read up on a lot more than I thought." He yawns, long and loud, as she perches herself on the windowsill next to him, bundles of lavender and rosemary hanging around her and framing her form. With a small, reassuring smile he tells her, "It's nothing I can't handle." 

There's no denying how exhausted he looks, though. She chews her bottom lip as she studies him, not particularly liking how worn down he seems. "You still need to take care of yourself." 

He waves her off but another yawn cuts off whatever retort he had prepared. It deepens her frown and she slides off the windowsill, simply grabbing his wrist and leading him towards the back. He stumbles at her sharp tug and is grateful that she keeps her eyes ahead and doesn't see the blush creeping up his neck. "W-well, an impromptu tour of the store?" 

"There's a couch in the back, and I'm sure there's a blanket somewhere." She glances back at him as they round the counter, her eyes firm as she says, "You're going to take a nap, and I'll order food for us when you wake up." 

"Really, Yana, I'm - " 

"It's not a negotiation, Ilya." 

The stern tone catches him off guard, and if his face wasn't enflamed in a brilliant flush before, it's now bordering on scarlet. She pushes the curtain aside and they go through the arch into the backroom of the store. He's been in here a handful of times in the past, but never for more than a minute and usually just to grab something for Yana. It's as he remembers, but as she lets go of his wrist and opens a chest of fabric in search of a blanket for him, he can take in more of the details. It fits the rest of the shop, with its dark wood and the smell of incense and lavender seeming to emanate from the very walls, and there is in fact a couch amongst the shelves and chests of various trinkets. 

When Yana finds a suitable blanket, something soft and burgundy, she turns to look at him still glancing around the backroom (he's actually searching for the safe, out of curiosity). "Sit," she orders, pointing at the faded blue couch, and he does as she says with a meek nod. He makes himself comfortable, which proves a slight challenge as the couch doesn't quite fit his tall frame. 

She can't help but laugh at his struggle, shaking her head as she hands him the blanket. "Sorry it isn't ideal." 

"It's fine," he mumbles, taking the blanket and draping it over his legs and chest. He looks up at her with a frown. "This really isn't necessary." 

"I know." The smile she gives him is warm and ignites a fire deep within his chest. She isn't sure what comes over her, but the sight of him so weak and curled up on the couch brings her to ruffle his hair with a playful smirk. "But you're too busy trying to take care of others. For once, let me take care of you." 

Without thinking, she leans down and places a delicate kiss on his hairline. It steals his breath and leaves him watching her with pink cheeks and wide eyes as she walks out of the backroom. 

"I'll wake you when the food gets here." 

He tries to respond but it comes out as a strangled hum. His heartbeat hammers blood into his ears, and he's feeling lightheaded and disoriented for entirely different reasons now.  _I'm tired,_ he reasons as he stares up at the ceiling, a hand to his forehead, tracing the spot where her lips touched him.  _I just need to get some sleep._  

When Yana takes her seat again behind the counter, about to pull out her phone to order from their favorite Thai restaurant, she stops, feeling her body freeze with the realization of what she's done. 

 _I kissed him_. 

On the forehead and for barely a second, but the thought invades her mind and refuses to release her heart as it leaps into her throat. With a groan she drops her head into her hands, feeling horrible heat invade her face and wondering how she's going to be able to face him when he wakes up. With any luck, maybe he'll slip into a coma and they'll never have to acknowledge what just happened. 

 

* * *

 

He doesn't slip into a coma, and she wakes him with bags of Thai food in her hands. 

They still don't acknowledge what happened, but there's no denying they're a little more quiet than usual as they eat on the couch. 

Probably just because they're tired. 

 


	4. not the worst

 

* * *

 

_In which Julian and Yana make a debatably great mistake._

 

* * *

 

"This is surprisingly not the worst thing we've done. This is like, maybe halfway up the list." 

Yana shushes him with a finger to his lips, though she has to bite down rather hard on her bottom lip to keep her own laughter from escaping. Her other hand holds the now empty pot, and she desperately wants to take another look at the poor shmuck they accidentally doused in her failed potion. 

It had been Julian's idea but technically Yana's fault. When she realized the possible dangers of pouring the foul-smelling concoction down the drain, Julian suggested she simply toss it off her balcony. Originally, she agreed, but once they were actually on the balcony she had second thoughts, and what started as a playful argument between the two turned into Yana accidentally spilling the potion. 

All over the obnoxious blond man in an expensive suit who happened to be passing by on the sidewalk below. 

Julian and Yana look at each other, trying their hardest not to burst into laughter as they listen to the man five stories below rant and rave at no one in particular, demanding his assailant reveal themselves and threatening the unknown entity with his dry-cleaning bill. 

"If you come out now, maybe I'll spare you the lawsuit!" 

She has to bite her hand to keep from laughing, eyes on Julian as he covers his mouth with his hand to muffle his chuckling. They listen to him go on for another few minutes, throwing in his last name and the name of his very successful company that absolutely has the money to destroy whoever doused him in the unidentifiable purple-gray liquid. 

When his footsteps and complaining finally fade into the distance, the pair hiding behind the balcony fence burst into laughter, leaning on each other for support as tears fill their eyes and their stomachs begin to hurt. Yana sets down the pot and sits back on the floor, wiping at her eyes, and watching Julian shake his head as he settles next to her, leaning on the stone wall that serves as her railing. 

He gives her a trademark grin. "You're absolutely getting evicted." 

"Worth it." She snickers, running a hand through her hair as she mutters, "That guy sounds like a real prick." 

"He looked like it, too," Julian agrees, remembering the slicked blond hair and gaudy suit. 

Yana smirks, putting on a haughty expression as she places a hand over her heart, chiding in a nasally voice, "I'll have you know this suit is  _Versace_ and it is a  _travesty_  that it's been ruined." 

They burst into a new round of laughter, and she can no longer hold herself up and falls slowly onto her back, both hands on her stomach. He's in a pretty similar state, head falling back softly on the wall as he howls. When he manages to get the brunt of the laughs out, he looks at her with a scrunched nose and shriveled expression as he uses the same nasally voice, "How dare you do this to me, I have a trust fund!" 

"My father will sue your father!" 

As the sun begins to set, their laughter dies down. Yana watches the sky transition to a soothing mixture of pinks and oranges. She doesn't notice Julian's eyes on her, or the faint smile he wears as he sits and watches her and wonders what kind of luck he must have to have ended up here. 

She sits up with a pleased sigh, resting her arms on her knees as she looks at him with a coy smirk. "This might have been one of the best things we've done, actually." 

And with her smiling at him like this, he's tempted to agree. 

 

* * *

 

Out of boredom, Julian decides to look up the company that man kept shouting about being the CEO of. They both pale when they realize he wasn't kidding about his net worth and possible connections. 

But then Yana makes fun of his voice again and they decide it was still worth it. 


	5. priorities

* * *

  

_In which Julian just wants to buy groceries._

 

* * *

 

"All I'm saying is, I would prioritize your orgasm over mine." 

He whips around to face her, cheeks engulfed in ruby and hands holding a bag of frozen vegetables. She looks far too innocent after having made that comment, gazing at him matter-of-factly with her own basket hanging from the crook of her crossed arms. 

Julian had told Yana about his latest failure of a date that culminated in the world's most disappointing one-night stand on their way to the grocery store. While he delighted in how she listened and laughed along with him, he expected that the conversation would end once they stepped inside. 

However, Yana seems intent on continue it, at full volume, with no regard for the other shoppers that might overhear. 

"A-are we really going to talk about this now?" he stammers, placing the bag in his basket and closing the freezer door. 

She shrugs. "Honestly, you don't seem upset enough about it. I'm offended on your behalf." 

"Can you be offended later?" 

His ears burn as they walk through the aisles, passing the occasional shopper as they pick up ingredients. Yana stops to open another freezer door and grab a tub of ice cream, looking up at Julian as she bluntly tells him, "You should have kicked them out of bed the second they said they wouldn't go down on you. And  _after_  you'd just gone down on them! The nerve of some people." 

This feels like his personal hell. Every inch of bravado he might have built up over the years comes crashing down as he leads them back through the grocery store, setting a brisk pace. "As much as I love hearing you talk about this, let's talk about  _literally anything else_." It just feels wrong to be talking to her about sex while he tries to find cereal. He keeps his eyes on the produce, avoiding her gaze and simultaneously feeling a thrill of laughter and embarrassment at this entire situation. 

"Then can we talk about how no decent person, myself included, wouldn't jump at the opportunity to blow you?" 

(He knows that she's kidding.) 

(She's not so sure anymore.) 

"You have to stop saying things like that," he mutters through grit teeth, trying desperately to control the heat flooding through his body at her words. He's used to how blunt she is, and he's used to talking about sex with her, but her phrasing is throwing him for a loop and the fact that they're  _at the supermarket_  can't be ignored. 

She stops to pick up peaches, and he shifts awkwardly next to her, praying that the next words out of her mouth will have nothing to do with her hypothetically having sex with him – and yet there's a tiny but very insistent voice praying that she keeps talking about it. When she looks over at him, there's a dangerous glint in her eyes that sends his stomach sinking and his heart racing. "What? Human sexuality is perfectly natural, Ilya, and I just want to make it clear that if it were  _me_  in their place, I would have known to choke you a little and -" 

"I just want to buy groceries, Yana!" He throws his hands in the air, his face now a nearly unnatural shade of crimson. Several shoppers look over and he feels immediately self-conscious, shrinking in on himself as he covers his blushing face with a hand. "Can we...can we just buy groceries without discussing the intimate details of my sex life in public?" 

"Why?" 

"Because you know too much and I can never come back to this store again." 

She chuckles, and he looks up at her with a miserable but amused face. The grin she gives him is downright diabolical as she brushes past him to get to the other produce. "You should join the tomatoes, Ilyushka. I've never seen you so red."  

He lets out an agonized sigh as he realizes that for as blunt as Yana might be, she's fully aware of the effect she's having on him. Still, he bites back his own chuckle as he joins her, watching her go through vegetables and carefully bag the ones she needs. They settle into a comfortable silence for a few moments, and just when he can finally feel his face returning to a normal color, she looks up at him with something devilish flickering across her features. 

"I just have one last question." He raises a brow, only to immediately pale when she holds up an eggplant with a smirk.  

"Bigger or smaller?" 

 

* * *

 

Julian doesn't go back to that grocery store for a month. 

It's for the best. 


	6. just a scratch

 

* * *

 

_In which Julian's education comes in handy and Yana is way too chill._

 

* * *

 

"It's just a scratch." 

Julian concernedly stares at the blood trickling down her forehead. "My definition of a 'scratch' and yours are vastly different." Without another word, he leads her by the shoulders, walking past the pile of tomes that fell on her and into the backroom. He sets her down on the couch and goes into the bathroom. "Is the towel in here clean?" 

"Should be." 

Yana hears the sink running but doesn't register much else as the shock of the shelf collapsing on her runs through her body. He walks back out with the white towel in hand, one end damp, and stops in front of her. "Are you okay to get blood on it?" 

She gives him a lazy smile, trying to ignore the sensation of blood beginning to drip past her eyebrow. "Something tells me you're going to use it anyway." 

He scowls, getting down on one knee and angling her face to clean the wound, careful not to apply too much force. His eyes focus in on the cut and sees that it's deeper than he originally thought. 

As Julian silently examines the wound on her forehead, applying pressure with the towel to try and stop the bleeding, Yana tries not to fidget from all the attention. The reminder that he cares makes the ends of her nerves tingle with something thrilling. Still, she tries to will it away with a roll of her eyes. "You worry too much." 

The expression he gives her is the sternest she's seen from him. "I don't care how tough you are, you can't ignore this and pretend it's fine," he scolds, brows furrowing when the bleeding doesn't seem to let up. He nods to himself in thought, concluding his mental examination. "Right, you need stitches." 

"I can just put a band-aid on - " 

"I'm taking you to the hospital before you can pass out from blood loss." He keeps one hand on the towel against her forehead, but holds out the other as he stands, helping her to her feet. She realizes there's no stopping him, and so she takes the towel from him and keeps applying pressure, her legs feeling wobbly and unstable as he leads her out of the shop. "Where's your bag?" 

"Under the counter," she mumbles, leaning against the arch as he goes to find the old leather bag. When he does, she adds, "The keys to the shop are in the inside pocket." 

He fishes them out and then shoulders her bag along with his, despite her protests that she can take hers from him. Without a word, he guides her out of the shop and onto the street, turning to lock the door before placing his arm on the small of her back and leading her to his parked car. 

The drive to the hospital is fairly quiet as Julian tries not to voice his growing anxiety and Yana tries to grapple with the realization that she could really get used to Julian caring for her. 

When they're stopped at a red light, he shakes his head, letting out a deep breath as he chuckles, "If I wasn't there, you seriously wouldn't have gone to the hospital." 

"Because  _I'm fine_." 

He looks at her, incredibly unconvinced. "Has it stopped bleeding?" 

She looks away, feeling a flush of being proven wrong crawling up her neck. "No." 

"Then you're not fine." The light turns green and his eyes are back on the road. He points to the ceiling with one hand as he teases, "See, this is why you befriend medical students. Magic can't heal everything." 

"We're not having this conversation while I'm bleeding in your car." 

"I'm just saying - " 

" _Ilya_." 

 

* * *

 

She does end up needing stitches, and Julian is absolutely smug about it the entire time. 

Until the nurse makes the offhand comment of what a good boyfriend he is, and suddenly he gets incredibly quiet and incredibly red and it's Yana's turn to be smug. 

 


	7. caviar and crushed dreams

 

* * *

 

_In which their past mistake comes back to haunt them._

 

* * *

 

"I don't know, that sounds like a 'fuck off' kind of growl." 

Julian retracts his hand immediately, Yana smirking as she takes another long sip of the iced coffee he picked up for her on his way to the shop. He holds his own to-go cup of black coffee as he watches the dogs, with their silky white coats and mismatched eyes of red and black, as they continue to stare back at him. They lay outside of Yana's shop as if they own it now, having seemingly appeared from nowhere and content to not move, instead only snarling at those who walk a step too close. 

"Well we should try to find out who they belong to," Julian reasons, "Without losing a hand, hopefully." 

"Hopefully," she hums, chewing on the straw as she thinks of what their next move could be. She's good with animals, but these particular dogs strike her less as dogs and more like royalty (and she's never been good with the rich and insufferable). With a shrug, she shares a look with Julian. "I have some food in the store we could try." 

He follows after her, the bell ringing above them as they open the front door, Yana walking to the backroom. Sipping his coffee, he glances out the front window and nearly jumps when he realizes the two dogs are staring right at him. A shiver runs down his spine, but he finds he can't break eye contact. "What do you think they'll eat?" 

"Caviar and the crushed dreams of the proletariat." She reappears from the backroom, a crate of fruit in her hands. She follows Julian's gaze, about to ask what he's looking at when she sees the dogs staring straight through her. "That is genuinely disturbing," she mumbles with absolutely no inflection. 

"Now I'm curious as to who would own these things." 

"Only one way to find out." She sets the crate down on the counter and Julian walks over to her, the two shuffling through the various fruit and snacks she's managed to scrounge up from the backroom. 

He picks up a pomegranate, raising a brow. "Is this fancy enough?" Yana purses her lips but ultimately gives him a shrug, not really sure what ancient spirits of carnage trapped in dogs' bodies would eat. With a sigh, Julian sets down his coffee and slowly heads back to the door, opening it and leaning outside as he holds out the pomegranate. "Who's hungry?" 

What happens next is a blur of movement – snapping jaws, Julian  _screeching_ , a pomegranate being thrown into the corner of the store. By the time the dust settles, Yana blinks, realizing that Julian is pressed up against the wall like his life depends on it and the two dogs are taking turns crunching the pomegranate between their powerful jaws. 

Panting, Julian swallows the last of his fear. "I looked death in the eyes just now." 

Yana smirks. "Ladies and gentlemen, Ilyushka's one true fear: spoiled dogs." 

"You saw how they tried to bite me." 

"I heard how you  _squealed_." He frowns like a petulant child and she relents, looking at the dogs as they settle into their new spot in the corner and laughing, "They do seem pretty vicious." Still, she needs to get a look at their tags, and so she picks up another pomegranate and slowly walks closer to them. It seems like they'll give her another growl, but then she holds up the pomegranate, and they sit up, suddenly well-behaved and demure. While they're distracted, she checks their collars, and before they get too antsy she tosses the pomegranate on the ground and jumps back when they go to snatch it. 

Julian walks to her side, wary of the dogs. "Did you get a phone number or address?" 

"Phone number, and their names – Melchior and Mercedes." Yana pulls out her phone, punching in the sequence before she forgets. 

He lets out a low whistle and regains his roguish grin. "I can already picture the owner." 

Yana laughs, nodding as she listens to the phone ring once, twice, and then a very irritated (and oddly familiar) voice picks up, shouting at her right off the bat. She grimaces, Julian watching with his brows furrowed as she responds, "Y-yeah, it's about your dogs...They're fine, I – no I didn't steal them, they showed up outside, and...yes...okay..." 

When she hangs up a minute later after giving her address, Julian's curiosity couldn't possibly be higher. "Well? What'd they say?" 

She blinks, tucking her phone back into her pocket and feeling oddly disoriented. "He's pissed at me for some unidentifiable reason. But he said his fiancée is coming to check on them and he'll be here to pick them up when he gets off work." 

Julian chuckles, looking back at the dogs and cringing at the sight of their now reddened mouths. "So, now we wait?" 

Yana nods. "Now we wait." 

 

* * *

 

They don't have to wait too long. 

The bell above the door chimes, and Julian looks up from the textbook he's reading in his customary chair, and Yana turns from where she's reorganizing a shelf of spices. The woman who's just walked in is nothing short of regal, with flowing hair and perfect skin, and when she takes off her sunglasses her eyes seem to cut right through the pair. 

Her voice is smooth and melodic, simultaneously comforting and intimidating as she regards the pair with a blank expression. "I'm here for the dogs." 

She doesn't seem particularly happy to be here, but Yana walks up to her with a small smile anyway, holding out her hand. "I'm Yana." 

The woman takes a moment to observe her before the corner of her lips pulls up into the ghost of a smile and she accepts her hand, shaking it firmly. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Nadia Satrinava, Lucio's fiancée." 

Yana has a hard time connecting her with the furious and entitled voice on the phone, but she keeps herself from launching into questions as to how exactly someone as seemingly composed and frankly  _majestic_  as Nadia has ended up engaged to whoever was on the phone. Instead, she turns towards Julian, who remains seated but with his textbook closed. "This is Julian." 

They nod at each other, and then Nadia brushes past Yana, walking towards the dogs but stopping a few feet away. "They look perfectly fine to me," she announces (although it might just be that her voice naturally carries), adding with a bite of venom, " _Friendly_  as ever." 

Julian and Yana exchange a look, the medical student seemingly vindicated that someone else is as upset with Melchior and Mercedes as he is. Yana only shakes her head, hiding her smile when Nadia turns back around to face them with a questioning look. "And you say they just...showed up outside your shop?" 

"I saw them when I came," Julian explains, "They were just lying there." 

"The gardener must have left the gate open." Nadia pulls out a sleek phone, muttering, "Well, I'll let Lucio know that they're safe, though I'm sure he'll be here any second now." 

"Can't wait," Yana grimaces, Julian biting back a laugh at her expense. 

 

* * *

 

Lucio arrives a few minutes later, furious but absolutely relieved that his precious dogs are fine. Nadia rolls her eyes at his antics and thanks the pair before they leave, not quite noticing how pale and still the two have become. They hold their breaths the entire time, but Lucio doesn't pay them any mind as he follows Nadia outside, Melchior and Mercedes at his side. 

The second the car drives off, Yana turns to Julian with a straight face, before her lip curls and her voice becomes incredibly nasally. 

"How dare the peasants touch my demon dogs! I had them specially bred from the genetics of Satan." 

They can't stop laughing for the rest of the day. 

 


	8. lucky

 

* * *

 

_In which Yana looks nice and Julian feels things._

 

* * *

 

"So...How do I look?" 

 _Spectacular. Gorgeous. Surreal. Beautiful._  

Julian instead continues to stare with wide eyes, feeling his cheeks turning red of their own accord as he grips the textbook in his lap until his knuckles turn white. 

His silence makes her fidget, and she twists and turns in the doorway of her bedroom, biting her lip. "If we were about to go on a date, what would you think?" 

He'd think that the wrap dress hugs her hips incredibly well, the heels make her legs look miles long, and that the brilliant azure of the fabric brings out her eyes to the point that he might drown in them – have they always been that blue? 

"You look good." 

It's enough of an answer to calm her but he kicks himself for not managing to choke out anything better. She walks over to where he sits on her couch, stopping by the coffee table to grab a bite of the dinner she's made him. 

"You're awfully dressed up." It's not that he minds ( _at all_ ), but it's a stark contrast to how he usually sees her. Yana always looks put together, but she's also always comfortable, and she certainly never wears lipstick that has drawn his attention to her lips like this. 

She shrugs, dropping the fork back onto the plate and straightening. "I mean, it's a date." Chewing her cheek, she amends with a smirk, "A blind date that your sister arranged, but still a date." 

For some reason he has the urge to call up Portia and ask why she's done this. His stomach flips as Yana turns to go back to her bedroom, and he calls after her, "So what, you're going to dinner with a stranger?" The whole idea strikes him as ridiculous, and really, she should just stay at her place, with him, watering her plants and helping him study. 

Her laugh echoes around the walls, and she steps out once more, one earring in and the other in her hands as she regards him with a raised brow. "That's what dating is. I know you're a med student, but don't tell me you've forgotten already." When she manages to successfully put in her earring, she walks over to the couch and plops down next to him with a sigh. He watches her lean forward, her eyes far away as she mumbles, "Though to be fair, I'm the one who's probably forgotten." 

Now that he thinks about it, Julian can't remember Yana ever going on a single date since he's known her. His chest tightens at the looks of melancholy passing through her expression, but he still can't deny the sour taste in his mouth. 

She tucks her legs under her and leans back into the couch, body tilted towards him as she wonders out loud, "Maybe I should just flake. Call the whole thing off. I already made dinner, after all." 

She did, and it was incredibly nice of her. He'd shown up at her shop and the wide-eyed look of panic and guilt on her face nearly made him laugh out loud. When she explained that she forgot she had a date and would have to cancel their typical dinner plans, the urge to laugh quickly disappeared. Still, she insisted that she'd cook for him and that he could even stay at her apartment to study. 

A strange bloom of pride swells in his chest when he considers that she'd so willingly go out of her way for him, and so quickly cancel on whoever this shmuck is. 

But the pitiful look in her eyes forces him to give her a smirk. "Don't tell me you scared of a blind date, Yanina." 

"Mostly just nervous." 

He wonders if she gets nervous around him but wipes the thought from his mind – these aren't the things that a good friend thinks. Scanning his mind, he tries to find a way to calm her nerves, and nearly smiles at the thought. He sets his textbook on the couch and stands, turning to her with a grand sweep of his arms that makes her raise a brow at his antics. 

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" 

Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. "I don't know, shall you?" 

Getting down on one knee, he places a hand on his chest and the other with its palm up to the ceiling in the most dramatic pose he can muster while he stares deeply into her eyes with puckered lips and exaggerated adoration. "Thou are more lovely and more temperate – rough winds do shake the buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date." Her laugh lights up the room and he takes it as a sign to continue, absolutely beaming. "But thy eternal summer shall not fade!" 

"That's enough," she chuckles, shaking her head as she leans forward to pat his head with a smirk. "You really have that memorized, Ilyushka." 

He shrugs, but it does nothing to wipe the proud smile off his face; nothing can when he's succeeded in making her laugh. "I skipped most of it." 

"You've made your point." 

"I just don't think you have any reason to be nervous," he tells her simply, sitting back on the couch and realizing he's sat just a hair too close. Their knees touch, but he forces himself to keep his eyes on hers as his voice dips into something lower and softer than either of them expect. "I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you." 

If she wasn't blushing before, there's no denying, even by him, that her ears and cheeks are beginning to color themselves with red. His do the same as he realizes the extent of his words, but before he can even try to take it back she's standing up, clearing her throat and doing her best to dispel the moment. "Well thank you for the pep talk, Shakespeare." She hurries back to her bedroom, coming out with her bag and rushing to the door as she rambles, "I better head out if I don't want to be late." 

"Right, of course, have fun." He stands, realizes standing is stupid to do so since she's about to leave, but it's too late for him to sit back down. 

Yana opens the door and turns, the sight of him in her living room forcing her to stop. The last of the sunset casts him in a brilliantly warm glow, his gray eyes reflecting it and his auburn hair nearly on fire. He stands awkwardly but not out of place, half of his shirt untucked, a look on his face that she can't decipher. She bites her cheek, a thousand thoughts flitting across her mind, but she settles on the simplest one. "You still have your spare key, right?" 

Julian nods. "I can lock up behind myself. I won't be staying too long." He covers up his disappointment with a garish smile, chiding, "Now get out and have fun already." 

She knows how to cover her own conflicting feelings with a smile, too. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

The door clicks shut behind her, and it stabs him deep in the chest, just above his heart. 

 

* * *

 

The date is lackluster and Yana laments about it to him the very next day, deciding that as much as she loves Portia, she won't be trusting her taste in dates again anytime soon. 

Julian pretends he isn't completely relieved. 

So does Yana. 


	9. your cat loves me

 

* * *

 

_In which Portia is absolutely done with their obliviousness, but not aware of her own._

 

* * *

 

"Your cat loves me. I'm his favorite toy." 

Portia looks over to see Yana sitting on the floor and playing with Pepi, smiling as she keeps her hand just out of reach from the swatting cat. 

"Seems like it," Portia laughs, her eyes back on the wok as she continues to stir. The kitchen is filled with the smell of ginger and sesame oil, and the radio on her counter is set to the one station in the city that only plays soft rock from the 80's (per Yana's request). Grinning to herself as she adds a little more salt, Portia purrs, "Although she's not the only Devorak who loves you..." 

Pepi tires herself from their little game, and so she crawls into Yana's lap, curling up and purring softly when the young woman gently strokes her back. Portia steals a glance at Yana, expecting a blush but only seeing the girl wink. "Love you too, Pasha." 

"You know that's not what I meant." 

"And we both know what you actually meant is ridiculous." 

" _Is it_?" Portia huffs, turning off the stove and beginning to empty the contents of the wok evenly between the three plates. When she's finished, she sets her spatula and the wok down on the counter, hands on her hips as she levels Yana with an unimpressed look. "Frankly, I think the ridiculous part is that neither of you will admit what's happening." 

They both look to the front door, hearing jingling keys and the lock turn and click a moment later. Yana looks over at Portia with a smirk. "Well, why don't we ask Julian?" 

"Ask me what?" Julian stands in the doorway a moment longer, one hand gripping the strap of his bag and the other still holding the spare key he has to his sister's apartment. He looks between the two women suspiciously but is only met with the expressions of feigned innocence that he's grown accustomed to from them. There are moments when he regrets the fact that Portia and Yana are friends, mostly when they seem to be scheming behind his back (though he never regrets it for long). 

As he walks past, Pepi picks herself up from Yana's lap and follows, rubbing her head against the medical student's legs as he sets his bag down on the couch. Before Yana can say anything, Portia beats her to the punch, asking over her shoulder as she gathers silverware, "Ask you how your study session went." 

Julian settles himself on the couch, smiling when Pepi hops up after him and settles into his lap. Yana narrows her eyes and mouths 'traitor,' but her face of betrayal quickly turns into a smile when Julian laughs good-naturedly at her. "Went about the same as all the others." He raises a brow at Portia, who takes a seat in the armchair opposite the couch with her plate of food. "Now what do you  _really_  want to ask me?" 

"She's still convinced that we're madly in love." Yana hands him his plate and fork before settling into the couch next to him, starting in on her own lunch. 

It's a conversation that's come up with the three of them just enough that Julian can fight the blush and roll his eyes, trying to keep his plate out of reach of Pepi's hungry paws. "Not this again." 

Portia scowls and bites another forkful of stir fry. She watches the other two laugh at Pepi's antics, both of them leaning in closer to each other – it's far from subtle and she's sick and tired of having to watch them be in love in front of her. The least they can do is admit it. 

But she knows they're both drowning themselves in denial, so she only eats her stir fry with a huff, feeling at least a little triumphant that Pepi seems to be similarly through with putting up with them, hopping off the couch and slinking off to some corner. Yana shakes her head, chuckling, "Can you even imagine us as a couple?" 

An idea sparks Julian's eyes and he turns towards her, holding out a fork filled with stir fry as he coos in a sickly-sweet voice, "Here Yanina,  _my love_ , let me feed you." 

She doesn't miss a beat, fluttering her eyelashes. "Oh Ilyushka,  _my sweet_ , how thoughtful." She leans forward and tries to take a bite, the two trying not to burst into laughter at their largely unsuccessful attempt; half the stir fry ends up landing in Julian's hand, which he throws up to his mouth. 

Portia and Yana share a slightly disgusted look, to which he only smirks. "Would hate to waste." 

"You're absolutely disgusting," Yana teases, lightly smacking his shoulder only for her hand to linger a second too long. 

"It's to annoy you." He grins, ruffling her hair, to which she protests. Seeing her frown, he laughs and helps her fix her hair once more, brushing his fingers through it and his touch lasting a moment too long as he tucks a stray strand behind her ear. Their eyes lock and their breaths hitch. 

"Some of us are trying to eat here." 

They straighten, turning to look at Portia who seems like she might be on the verge of vomiting from watching them. Julian is too busy fighting his blush, so Yana clears her throat and chuckles, "What, is our  _flourishing romance_  bothering you?" 

"I hate you both. These 'family meals' are cancelled." 

The trio laughs before eating in silence for a few moments, the radio providing soft background music that pairs well with the afternoon sunlight of autumn in the city. When she's halfway through her plate, Yana looks up at Portia and breaks the quiet reverie. "I've been meaning to ask, how's the new client?" 

Finishing up her stir fry with a smile, Portia explains, "It's only been a few weeks but I can tell she's probably my favorite ever. She's had personal assistants before and she's super intimidating, so I kind of expected her to be distant and no-nonsense, but she's actually pretty sweet and super understanding! She's also super fashionable, it's kind of amazing what she can pull off. And she's insanely gorgeous, on top of it." 

Julian and Yana share a look, beginning to pick up a hunch at what the undertone of Portia's gushing really is. He looks back at his sister with a smirk. "Well, what's her name?" 

"Nadia Satrinava." 

Yana and Julian choke. 

Portia doesn't notice, having set her own fork and plate on the coffee table and now curling up in the armchair, her chin in her hand as she looks out the window wistfully. "She's so pretty, and so capable. I've honestly never met someone who's so driven and talented – ugh, but she's engaged to  _the worst_  guy." 

"Blond?" Julian asks when he manages to regain the ability to breathe. 

Yana adds, "Vain?" 

"Superiority complex?" 

"Stupidly rich?" 

Portia blinks, looking between the two with wide eyes. "How did you..." 

Julian and Yana share a grin. "Do you want to tell her?" Yana asks, knowing full well that Julian would like nothing more. 

He gives her a wink. "Why as a matter of fact, I would." 

 

* * *

 

Pepi comes out to see what the commotion is when the three of them are laughing in the living room several minutes later. 

Portia picks her up, stroking her and biting her tongue as she watches Yana and Julian go back and forth with their impressions, Yana unconsciously resting a hand on Julian's knee and Julian clearly trying not to blush at the contact. 

Portia wonders how two people can be so smart and yet so stupid at the same time. 

 


	10. without you

 

* * *

 

_In which Yana gets a strange prescription._

 

* * *

 

"I'm  _dying_  without you. When are you coming back?" 

Asra's chuckle is light but hesitant on the other end of the line, and Yana frowns, adjusting her hold on her phone. She sits cross-legged behind the counter, giving herself another spin to try and distract from the knots her stomach is twisting itself into. 

After giving a regular a tarot reading, Yana had decided on a whim to see if Asra was able to talk for a bit. She hadn't really expected him to respond – his M.O. is a several-days-delay between texts – but lo and behold, her intuition was right and he had an hour to spare between his travels and lessons. 

What started as a happy, light-hearted conversation as they caught each other up on their lives quickly turned to apprehension and tension with the elephant in the room. It's been nearly four months since his last visit, and while she's grown used to Asra coming and going, this is by far his longest absence yet.  

The silence is killing her when he still doesn't have a response, and Yana sighs. "Or are you never coming back?" She swallows the hurt, adding with a smirk, "Maybe I should fill your position. Fluffy-haired magicians are a dime a dozen these days." 

His laugh makes her smile, makes her reignite that single spark of hope she keeps buried deep within her chest (even though she swears life has extinguished it years ago). "But they don't have the cutest familiar in the world." 

"If it weren't for Faust I would have kicked you out years ago." 

"She's the sole reason for my job security." 

They share another laugh, but it ends a hair quicker than the ones before. Yana picks up the nazar amulet she keeps by the register, twirling it in her fingers absent-mindedly as her brows furrow. "You haven't answered my question," she mumbles, trying her best to not coat it in a bittersweet tone; he doesn't answer most of her questions. 

Asra sighs and her stomach sinks. "I'm really starting to make some progress here -" 

" _When_ , Asra?" 

"I don't know." 

Her knuckles turn white as she tries to crush her phone in her hands, her other clutching the nazar in a fist. She bites down on her cheek and fights every urge to scream, to kick, to lash out. She lets out the breath she's holding, feeling the flash of fury quickly ebb and give way to something far worse that she's far too familiar with: melancholic acceptance. She can hear shuffling in the background on Asra's end of the line and knows it's only a matter of minutes before he tells her he has to go. "Miram was hoping you could see her during the holidays," she mumbles, setting the nazar back on the counter. "And you know I could always use an extra hand with the holiday rush." 

"...I'll try." It doesn't sound convincing, but she knows better than to argue with him at this point. She knows he cares about her, but that doesn't always manifest in the ways she needs it to – it never really has. 

Still, she musters up a smile that he can't see. "Well, I better let you go. Lots to do, I'm sure." 

"Really, Yana, I'll try to - " 

"I _know,_  Asra." She bites back the bitterness, swallows her pride. Her face and voice crack as she lets herself succumb to the disappointment. "I know." 

His side is silent for a moment, and she wonders what he might be thinking; every time she swears she finally understands, there's another mystery of his to unravel. She suspects he's debating whether to push his point further or let her go before this turns ugly. Apparently, he settles on the latter, voice soft and adoring as he whispers, "I'll try to talk again soon. Until then, take care." 

"Safe travels." 

She hangs up the phone, setting it down on the counter and sitting back in her chair, eyes on the ceiling as she contemplates the conversation. 

 

* * *

 

She's not entirely sure at what point she fell asleep, but Yana nearly falls off her chair when she's woken up by her ringtone. With a glance at the screen, the corner of her lips twitches into a smile, and she answers with a smirk. "Looking to make a house call, Doctor?" 

"Yana you have to come save me from this rotation." He sounds absolutely desperate, and it's enough to manage a chuckle out of her, though her throat is still tight from her last phone call. 

"Are you on break?" 

"For about ten minutes." Even over the phone, he senses her melancholy, and she wonders when he got so good at reading her. Her silence is replaced with his light-hearted laugh. "What, no snarky comment? No offer to land yourself in the hospital so you can visit?" But before she can roll her eyes and give him just that, his tone softens and he asks, gentle and small, "What's wrong?" 

Yana hesitates for a moment, chewing her cheek as she considers how much to say. Preferably they wouldn't be talking about this at all, but Julian has the awful habit of caring about her too much to let these things go. "Asra." 

" _Ah._ " His distaste is evident – the magician is his least favorite topic of conversation. He's never outright rude, but it doesn't take a detective to know that the medical student has mixed feelings whenever Yana brings up Asra. "Did he call?" 

"A little while ago. It..." She doesn't want to say more, wants to keep this neatly wrapped and packed up in a corner of her heart where it won't hurt, only ache from time to time. Yana is about to tidy away the feelings before she lets herself release a sigh and sink into her chair; if she's going to talk about this with anyone, it's going to be Julian. "It didn't go as well as I would have liked."  

"How so?" The concern in his voice makes something warm bloom in her chest despite herself. 

The spot quickly grows cold as she remembers the conversation, remembers feeling so lost at sea by the time she hung up. "He's probably not coming back for a while." 

"Fantastic news." 

She rolls her eyes. " _Ilya_ -" 

"Kidding, kidding! I'm sorry to hear." And he is; there's genuine concern in his voice, as he knows how close the two are. He clicks his tongue and Yana bites back a giggle from imagining the one expression his face twists into whenever he's deep in thought. "I'm just a little surprised – he wanders off all the time, what makes now different?" 

She sighs, the knot in her stomach turning as she finally admits the awful truth out loud. "The longest he's been gone before is a month, but now it's been four and I can't tell if he's ever coming back at this point." She steadies herself with a deep breath, finally letting herself sink into the bitter at the bottom of her heart. "I miss him. And I know I shouldn't, but I do." 

There's a pause at his end of the line, but before Yana can worry that she's said something strange, he asks gently, "What do you mean, 'shouldn't'?" 

The nazar amulet at the register is back in her hands, giving her fingers something to fidget with as she grapples with the things she’s kept bottled up for years. "We broke up years ago, so it's not like we're dating. He doesn't have any obligation to me -" 

"Of course he does, he's still your friend." She sits up straighter at his insistent tone, wondering if she’s ever heard Julian so firm about anything. He pauses, growing a little gentler as he mumbles, "You care about each other, it's natural." 

Yana considers his words for a moment, letting them sink into her skin as her lips slowly curl into a smile. She wants to tell him what a lovely thought that is, wants to ask how he knew exactly what to say to unburden her of guilt and allow her to breathe, but instead she goes for the joke (because she’s incorrigible). "Is that the doctor's diagnosis?" 

"That's the human observation that feelings are natural. You should try them some time." He’s chuckling now, though there’s something underneath his jab that strikes a chord with her. 

"No thanks." She smirks, and before he can cut her off, cut through her any deeper, she asks, "Now enough about the feelings I don't have, what's happening at the hospital?" 

And he gives the most dramatic huff over the phone that she’s ever heard. "I'm so glad you asked because you won't  _believe_  the shift I've been having." 

They spend the next ten minutes of his break over the phone, Julian weaving together stories of incompetent interns and haughty residents, and Yana supplying the appropriate one-liners and empathetic hums. 

 

* * *

 

By the time she hangs up, she wonders if maybe she will be all right despite Asra’s absence. 

But then Julian’s words pop up in her heart, and she decides that maybe it’s fine to not be fine for once, to not have to hold herself together as some false show of strength. 

Doctor’s orders, after all. 

 

 


	11. be my date

 

* * *

 

_In which Yana is only doing this for Mazelinka._

 

* * *

 

"Would you mind pretending to be my date?" 

Yana freezes, startled out of rearranging crystals on a shelf by the question. She looks over to the front of her store, where Julian sits in his favorite chair (and at this point, it’s really just  _his_ chair), not quite meeting her gaze and chewing on his bottom lip. If that isn’t enough to tip her off to his nerves, then the bouncing leg more than confirms her suspicion. 

If she plays her cards right, she can coax a brilliant flush out of him. 

She decides to spare him for a moment, instead leaning against the self as she counters with her own question. “What’s the occasion? Jealous ex? Spy mission?” 

“My niece’s bat mitzvah.” 

Yana blinks, her smirk now falling as her lips part in slight surprise. “You have a niece?” 

Julian chuckles. “Not  _biologically._ ” Seeing that she’s still confused, he sits up and explains with a lopsided smile, “Well, I don’t know the technical term for it, but an extended family member’s daughter is celebrating her bat mitzvah. Unless you would prefer for me to launch into my entire family tree that encompasses generations of the finest folk that Nevivon has to offer, a lush tapestry of -” 

“Niece is fine,” she deadpans, smiling as he laughs before her mind is clouded with a different thought. Before it can take root and he can begin to worry, she shakes her head. “Families are weird.” 

He raises a brow. “You have one, too.” 

It’s her turn to give him a lopsided smile as she mumbles, “Not biologically.” 

Sometimes he forgets that she’s adopted; he suspects that she wouldn’t mind if he did. The few times that he’s broached the subject, Yana’s gone mostly quiet. The stories that she has of her childhood, before Miram adopted her, aren’t the happiest, and she prefers not to dwell on it. 

Julian of all people more than understands the sentiment. 

And she’s no different now as she pushes herself off the shelf to stand up straight, crossing her arms as she walks past him to take a seat on the windowsill. “So, why a fake date? Afraid your not-niece will worry about poor Uncle Ilya instead of enjoying her big day?” 

“Something like that.” He watches her, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and squinting to make out her form as the setting sun outlines it in gold. “It’s more that I have certain family members who’ll get it in their minds to start asking a lot of loaded questions about my personal life if I don’t have someone on my arm. What do you say, care to be my arm candy for an evening?” With a waggle of his brow and a roguish grin he has her rolling her eyes and biting back her chuckle, and it’s enough to dispel the last of the melancholic mood. 

She considers for a moment, tapping her fingers in a strange rhythm. “Will Pasha be there?” 

“Unfortunately, she has an entire day of meetings with Nadia,” he explains with a dramatic huff. He feigns a pained pout, as though no sacrifice could be greater. 

Yana mirrors his expression, sighing wistfully. “I’m sure she’s absolutely dreading spending so much time with her extremely attractive employer.” They share a knowing smile before Yana puts on her façade of deep thought, chewing on her cheek and humming – she's not sure when she got so dramatic with her teasing, and suspects the medical student has rubbed off on her more than she’d easily admit. “Well, I don’t know...That’ll mean it’s just me and you against an entire family with plenty of questions...” 

But Julian has an ace up his sleeve that stops her theatrics. “Mazelinka really wants to see you.” 

His smirk grows as she drops it immediately with a sigh. “You’ve forced my hand.” He laughs, adjusting his seat as he watches her pull a leg up onto the windowsill, hugging it to her chest. “But I’m  _only_  doing this for Mazelinka.” 

“I’m not surprised in the least, Yanina.” 

He gives her a fond smile and she returns it, suddenly aware that she’s the one blushing now. Her eyes go to the ground, and Julian recognizes her worrying face from a mile away. Still, he bites his tongue, waiting patiently; sure enough, she looks up at him and asks sheepishly, “Are you sure it won’t be odd if I’m there?” 

“It certainly shouldn’t be. Just think of it as a large party.” 

“Oh boy, my favorite.” 

Julian chuckles at her sarcasm, but the smile she wears is still nervous, not quite reaching her eyes. “Please?” He tries to bat his eyes, but seeing it has no effect on her, he quickly adds, “I’ll owe you a huge favor, anything of your choosing.” 

But Yana shrugs. “No need to beg – I already told you I’m in it for Mazelinka.” She stands, seemingly done with the matter and ready to go back to organizing the store, stopping back at the shelf to rearrange crystals. As she passes him, she mumbles, “Who by the way, is more than welcome to Thanksgiving at Miram’s.” 

Julian smiles. “She’s been planning the stew that she’s bringing for months.” 

Yana gives him a smile over her shoulder, and then she’s back to arranging the display shelves, and Julian goes back to reviewing his notes. The silence is comfortable for a little while, but he can sense Yana’s anxiety on the periphery, can see her nervousness betrayed in how she fidgets with everything on the shelf, picking things up just to have something to fidget with. He frowns, and very nearly goes back on it all, insisting that it’s fine; the last thing he would ever want is to make her uncomfortable. 

Before he can say a word, though, she sets down the jar she’s fiddling with and straightens with a new resolve, turning to face him with a smirk. “So, what’s our story?” 

“A dashing, handsome medical student and a mystical, sardonic shopkeeper get up to low-stakes shenanigans?” he offers after a moment’s thought, thrown off by the question. He almost adds a quick ‘with blooming sexual tension’ as a joke, but it gets caught in his throat and just the thought of saying it out loud, to her face, has his cheeks igniting in a blush. 

“Interesting take, but I meant with whatever we’re pretending to be at the bat mitzvah.” 

“Ah.” He clears his throat, and his blush only worsens. Yana raises a brow, waiting for him to continue and taking some small comfort in knowing that he’s going to be at least a fraction as uncomfortable as she will be. Julian can’t quite manage eye contact as he mumbles, “See, this is where the favor comes in, because it really would be helpful if you would be kind enough to pretend that we’re more than friends...we don’t have to go too far here, just saying that you’re my date and maybe insinuating that there’s something romantic happening -” 

“I’m your fuckbuddy, got it.” 

The noise that escapes him is barely human and some cross between shock and laughter. Yana smirks, absolutely delighting in the blush (and feeling a strange pride in still being able to get his face to match his hair after two years). Julian blinks, dragging a hand through his hair with another stunned chuckle, shaking his head and silently admitting defeat in her wake. 

“You’re crass,” he finally mutters, without the least hint of venom in his voice. 

“You love it, Ilyushka,” she purrs, with a spark of something warm and lovely in her eyes. 

 

* * *

 

The shop is quiet for the next hour, with Julian finally getting the chance to read and Yana looking over numbers from the past month. All is peaceful. 

Until Yana announces to no one in particular, “You know, I think I know enough about your sexual preferences to pull this off.” 

Julian chokes on air, head snapping up to meet her gaze as he splutters, “ _Why on earth_  would that come up at –” And he can see the wheels turning in her head, and he stands instinctually, walking closer with an accusatory finger pointed at her as he continues, “No, stop that, this  _isn’t a challenge.”_  

She laughs, and as she teases him, she realizes that with Julian, this might not be half bad at all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon the Devoraks as Russian and Jewish, but I'm not Jewish myself, so if there's anything in their portrayal (especially with a bat mitzvah in the background of the next chapter) please let me know! Otherwise get ready for some more shenanigans, this time featuring Mazelinka.


	12. why haven't you

 

* * *

 

_In which Yana realizes._

 

* * *

 

Yana watches from her seat at a table as a crowd of children pull Julian in for another round of dancing, laughing and smiling as he nimbly spins them around the circle, always perfectly on beat and with just the right amount of flair to impress them. She smiles, taking another sip from her glass and content to sit and watch him as he dazzles everyone in the room; if she didn’t know any better, she might say the bat mitzvah was for him. Even his niece's middle school friends seem charmed by his antics, rather than the unimpressed stares they have reserved for most everyone else (including Yana). 

An older woman approaches the table, and Yana grins at the sight of Mazelinka shuffling over to take a seat next to her. The two have had a few moments to chat, but Mazelinka’s been busy making her own rounds at the party, and this is their first real chance to talk. Without wasting another moment, Mazelinka pulls out a flask and asks Yana with a smirk, “Refill?” 

“Yes please.” Yana pushes forward her glass of punch, and considers asking Mazelinka just what  _exactly_  is the clear liquid she’s been spiking it with. 

She suspects the answer would scare her and instead takes a sip, the burn of alcohol now accompanying the sweet fruit, with a strange aftertaste. 

The two take a moment to observe the rest of the party, and inevitably their eyes go to Julian, both with fond smiles. “He’s having a good time,” Mazelinka notes with a chuckle as she sees him very nearly be toppled by the pile of children trying to climb him. 

Yana laughs. “Did you ever doubt he would?” 

“Until he said he was bringing you, yes.” Yana turns with wide, questioning eyes; Julian thrives in social situations, and they both know that a large party is his bread and butter, the perfect opportunity for him to flex his charm. Hearing the older woman claim he’d be anything but excited for tonight is odd to Yana, but Mazelinka explains with a wistful smile, “He doesn’t go to family events often.” 

“Really?” While it’s true that mentions of his family had been relatively sparse over the past two years that they’ve known each other, whenever Julian did mention them it was always with the sort of warmth that had Yana sure he was close and seeing them on a near-constant basis. 

Mazelinka nods, taking a sip from her flask. “It was hard, for him and Pasha, after their parents passed. When I took them in, we were all still mourning. But when he felt up to it again, he had to save up for school, and then he gets into medical school, and well...” She ends with a humorless chuckle and a shrug. “Rest is history.” 

Yana nods, biting her lip as her eyes travel back to Julian. He leads a six-year old girl in a tango that leaves the children giggling and begging for their turn to dance with Uncle Ilya. When he looks up to find Yana staring, his brows furrow in concern at her somber expression, and he mouths, ‘ _Are you okay?’_  She nods back, replacing her frown with a small smile, and he flashes a brilliant grin, waving to Mazelinka before turning his attention back to the kids. 

"I wish he talked about that more with me,” Yana mumbles, her frown slowly returning, “It must be hard to lose your parents so young.” 

Mazelinka raises a brow. “You say that as if you don’t know.” 

“Can’t lose what you never had.” 

It might be enough to bring down the mood completely, but Yana says with a lopsided smile, and Mazelinka is too used to her sardonic humor to not chuckle. “Terrible girl,” she mumbles affectionately, and Yana’s smile grows. 

As Yana takes another sip from her drink, Mazelinka watches her with a look that the younger woman can’t decipher. Then an impish glint flashes in her eyes and she says, “You know he’s gushed about you all night.” 

“Not that much.” 

“When you’re around, no. But the second you leave for food or to go to the bathroom, he can’t stop.” Mazelinka watches carefully, but Yana can feel her eyes gauging her reaction, and does her best to maintain a poker face and fight a blush. “Talking about how witty you are, how strong and so on and so forth.” 

“We  _do_  have an act to keep up,” she mutters in response, not quite meeting Mazelinka’s eyes. 

Seeing the resistance, Mazelinka drops the point with a final shrug. As she takes another sip from her flask, she watches Yana’s eyes roam the bat mitzvah, scanning and anxious as she takes in the mass of people she’s never met before today. Sensing the nerves building below the surface, Mazelinka says, “Ilya isn’t the only one who’s proud. I’m glad you came.” 

Yana rolls her eyes, voice coated in self-deprecation as she replies, “Yes, very impressive that I’ve been following Ilya around like a shadow or sat in the corner, waiting for him.” 

“Give yourself more credit – I know how overwhelming our family is, and you’ve handled it well. Hell, they all love you. Lena is ready to adopt you.” Yana opens her mouth, but Mazelinka cuts her off with a roll of her eyes, “Don’t make the adoption joke.” 

“Damn, I’m getting predictable.” They share a chuckle before Yana’s eyes grow softer, and her face finally betrays the vulnerable self-consciousness she’s been harboring all evening. She asks, voice small and body shrinking in on itself, “Are you sure?” 

Mazelinka smiles warmly, placing a calloused hand on her shoulder as she whispers, “I’m sure.” 

And Yana finally lets out the breath she’s been holding since the ceremony started. “Thank you.” 

“I’m only saying the truth. It takes a special person to break Ilya out of his habits; you’re that person.” Mazelinka sighs, tucking the flask ack into her pocket as she stands. She stretches with a grunt, muttering, “I need to go or I’ll be late for the poker game.” 

“Nice seeing you, Masha.” 

Just before Mazelinka turns to leave, she pauses, throwing a mischievous smirk as she mumbles, “Your little act isn’t quite believable. You two have been tame with affection tonight.”  

At this Yana shrugs, biting back a laugh. “We decided to keep it classy. He’d hate to make a spectacle of himself.” 

They look to the dance floor, where Julian has now taken to throwing children up in the air and catching them repeatedly, yelling along with them and gathering the attention of other dancers. Yana very nearly smacks herself in the face for the awful timing. “Ilya not wanting to be the center of attention?” Mazelinka raises a brow, thoroughly unimpressed. “Color me surprised.” 

And she walks away, leaving Yana to finally laugh at this entire situation, because the alternative is to consider what Mazelinka said about being a ‘special person’ to Julian and that’s a thought that she’s going to need a lot more punch to even begin to touch. 

Luckily, she isn’t left alone with her thoughts for too long as Julian approaches the table, a swarm of children at his feet that reminds Yana of a mother hen and leaves her chuckling. He gives her a sheepish grin, having to pry a four-year old boy off his leg as he says, “I’m sorry to have abandoned you for so long, but the kids don’t think I need a break.” 

She smirks, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand as she purrs, “And what would you like me to do about it, Ilyushka?” 

The children gasp at the use of the nickname, before a crowd of scandalous  _oooooh’s_ ripples through them, ending in a chorus of giggles. Julian laughs but Yana sits a little straighter; normally she’d brush it off, knowing that she uses his diminutive name mostly in joking, but considering the conversation she just had with Mazelinka about gushing and affection, it strikes a different chord with her this time. 

Julian gives her a pleading smile. “Please help, Yanina.” 

Once more the kids are scandalized, a few of them sticking out their tongues in mock disgust, muttering things about ‘cooties’ and ‘icky adults.’ Yana shakes her head with a chuckle before looking at the crowd of children and realizing just how out of her element she really is. Try as she might, she suspects that children generally don’t like her, and so she does her best to muster up a friendlier, more charming air like Julian as she says, “You know, I think Uncle Ilya needs to sit for a moment. Between you and me, he’s pretty lazy.” 

They laugh, and though some of them still pout, they finally release the medical student, allowing him to collapse into the chair next to Yana with a sigh. 

“Did Mazelinka leave?” 

“Just headed out.” She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, smirking as she takes another sip of punch. “So how many kids have you adopted tonight?” 

“Har har.” He sits, looking around for a glass before Yana offers her own, and he takes a grateful sip, only for his face to immediately twist in disgust at the mystery alcohol, Yana giggling at him. “I had to find  _someone_  to dance with, considering my date is less than willing,” he teases. 

Yana shrugs. “You know I don’t dance.” 

“Now that’s not true.” 

“Not in public,” she amends, “Not often. And no offense to your niece and her friends, but I definitely can’t dance to most of their music.” She considers it for a moment, eyes scanning the dance floor before turning back to Julian as she mumbles, “Although to be fair, it’s certainly better than any line dance – if the Cha Cha Slide comes on, I may have to leave.” 

Julian grins. “We’re just lucky it’s Lena’s side of the family – they have a firm Anti-Electric Slide policy. No word on the Macarena, however.” 

She laughs, and he smiles at his success. He knows that it was a big ask to make her come with him, and he’s glad that she can at least somewhat enjoy herself. Truthfully, if she hadn’t agreed, he probably wouldn’t have come, and he nearly tells her so before something stops him. She turns to look at him with a curious smile, and something in the way she looks at him, so open and simple, makes him pause. 

The last thing he wants to do is say something that will change what they have going. 

So instead he asks, “Any word on Pasha and what an absolutely dreadful time she’s having?” 

“Oh, she’s suffering immensely as Nadia continuously praises her and looks fantastic in a pantsuit.” Yana remembers the series of texts she received after the ceremony, at least half of them purely Portia gushing about her boss. The two share a knowing look before Yana’s drops into a frown. “Although she did have to put up with Lucio for a bit. Apparently, he wouldn’t shut up about real estate – something about a big plan in the works to make him a boatload of money at the expense of others.” 

“Sounds about right.” 

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments (well, silent except for the loud music blasting through the banquet hall). But Yana’s thoughts are still on her earlier conversation with Mazelinka, and as Julian takes another sip from her glass, she decides she might as well tease him about it so she isn’t alone in her suffering. 

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” 

Julian chokes, spluttering as he coughs, Yana biting back a laugh to try and help by rubbing his back soothingly. The gesture only flusters him more, however, and the blush has spread across his nose and cheeks to his ears by the time he manages to look at her and ask incredulously, “ _What_?” 

“Mazelinka doesn’t think you’re being nearly affectionate enough with me,” she explains. “The jig might be up unless we make out, I guess.” 

The tips of his ears are now a brilliant scarlet, and he takes a suspiciously long sip of punch. Yana bites the inside of her cheek, feeling her own stomach flip as she realizes her teasing may be taking them too close to the edge. She’s used to toying the line of platonic and romantic, but recently that line has become thinner and thinner, and now as she sits surrounded by his family pretending to be his... _something_ , it’s all starting to feel like they might have wandered too far out without a map. 

He lowers his voice, barely able to make eye-contact and his tone somewhere between teasing and flustered as he asks, “Are you sure this isn’t just some exhibitionist streak in you trying to break out?” 

“We both know that if either of us has an exhibitionist streak, it’d be you.” Seeing her opportunity, she smirks as she adds, “You know, this might be a great time to have this conversation in front of your entire family, and then I can bring up -” 

“For the last time, that’s  _not_ an appropriate bat mitzvah topic.” But he’s laughing, the blush beginning to subside as she chuckles and takes her glass back, finishing off the punch as he shakes his head and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “incorrigible” under his breath. They smile, back to their comfort zone, but there’s something scratching at the back of Yana’s mind, something that she’s had buried deep under the surface for a long time. 

But just when she manages to scrounge up the courage (and get past the idea that at a bat mitzvah while Shawn Mendes plays in the background is probably the least ideal time to have this conversation), Julian’s eyes catch on an approaching figure, his entire face lighting up into a smile. “Kostya,” he greets, immediately standing and going to the young man, enveloping him in a hug. 

Konstantin: Julian and Portia’s closest childhood friend. Yana can recall a few stories they’ve told involving him, but the trio lost touch when the Devoraks immigrated and Konstantin’s family stayed in Nevivon. What mental image she had of the boy was just that – a boy with puffy cheeks and straw-colored hair, quick on his feet with perpetually stained overalls. 

The young man before her, however, seems to have hit several growth spurts. Though he’s nowhere near Julian’s height and is eight years his junior, Konstantin still stands tall, a slight slump to his shoulders and his cheeks still puffy despite losing baby fat. The straw-colored hair is more of a honey, and his stained overalls are replaced by a wrinkled dress shirt and slacks. When he smiles, dimples appear on his cheeks, and he pulls away from the hug with a sheepish smile. “Been a while, Ilyushka.” 

Yana stands awkwardly, realizing she’s not sure if she’s intruding. She stays back as Julian shakes his head in disbelief, mumbling, “Someone told me you decided to go to America for school, but I didn’t...” 

Konstantin nods. “Just transferred. I would have tried to see you sooner, but university’s been hectic, and I know how busy you must be.” 

But Julian shakes his head, insisting, “I always have time for you. It’s been years, I feel like we haven’t even talked on the phone since what, when you were in middle school? We need to grab dinner with Pasha, there’s so much to catch up on, and of course I want to hear every detail, and you don’t even know about -” He turns, his eyes locking with Yana’s as he smiles widely, stepping aside and gesturing to her as he laughs, “Why, I  _have_  to tell you all about Yanina!” 

 

Something very odd happens to Yana in that moment. 

Something she long feared would happen. 

As she steps forward with a smile, her heart stammers at the look of adoration and excitement in Julian’s eyes, her pulse quickens at the thought that he’s so proud to show her off to his family, and her mind races towards one momentous realization. 

 

 

The realization that, at some point over the course of these two years, she’s fallen in love with Julian. 

 

 

And now she has to play it all off with a smile, shaking Konstantin’s hand as internally she can only scream. Julian instinctively drapes an arm around her shoulder, and she can practically see the flashback reel of the copious amount of physical touch they’ve had over the years, playing it off for laughs – speaking of laughs, there’s every single time she’s ever “joked” about getting together with him, or being attracted to him, or  _how ridiculous the idea of her being in love with him is._  

Someone kill her now, it would be less painful than the irony. 

If she thinks about it for a second longer she may very well start screaming out loud, and so instead she focuses on the young man in front of her, greeting as she withdraws her hand, “Hi Konstantin, I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“All good things I hope?” he asks with a self-deprecating chuckle. 

“As good as embarrassing childhood stories can be.” 

“They weren’t all embarrassing,” Julian insists, looking down at Yana with a pout. 

The trio laughs, and Konstantin watches them, adding up the signs as he asks, “So you’re Ilya’s girlfriend then?” 

Julian and Yana freeze as Konstantin smiles, oblivious to the existential crisis he’s just sent them both on. 

When they finally manage to spring back to life, Julian quickly explains, “Well it's a bit complicated, but the long and short of it is that she’s been kind enough to agree to be my date tonight – if anyone asks, w-well, if you can just leave it at that, maybe hint at something more so Lena and the others don’t come asking me about a lack of a love life, maybe something along the lines of, hm...um...” 

Konstantin raises a brow, realizing that he’s not going to be able to decipher an answer from Julian’s stammering, and turns to Yana. “So, not his girlfriend then?” 

“Not his girlfriend,” she confirms with a nod. 

And it’s enough to get them to move on, but even as she learns more about Julian’s childhood and trades quips with Konstantin, a single question repeats in the back of her mind. 

 _What am I to him, then?_  

But a bat mitzvah with Shawn Mendes playing in the background is not the ideal time to have this conversation (and truthfully, there’s never a good time for it as far as Yana is concerned), so she focuses on the moment, ignoring questions of how Julian feels, or if he already knows, or what to do next. 

 

* * *

 

She does end up dancing, laughing and making a fool of herself with Konstantin and Julian, and she’s not sure how long it’s been since she’s felt this carefree and light. It’s nearly enough to distract her until the night begins to wind down and the slow songs come on, and she doesn’t even think before she accepts Julian’s hand, the two slow-dancing in the corner. 

He notices that she’s grown quiet, and he wonders if she can hear the hammering of his heart as she lays her head on his chest. “What are you thinking about?” he whispers, because he needs a distraction from his own thoughts, which have all centered around how warm she is, how nice it is to have her so close, how lucky he’s felt to have her by his side the entire night. 

Yana frowns, because in the course of her Realization, she’s forgotten one key player who’s going to have an absolute field day with this information. 

 

“Pasha was right and I’m never going to hear the end of it.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a minute and accidentally got super long but that's what happens when you decide to insert plot all of a sudden I guess


	13. plus one

 

* * *

 

_In which they get invited to the fanciest event of their lives._

 

* * *

 

Julian pauses as he enters the familiar shop, two coffees in hand and a frown on his face as he immediately senses that something’s amiss. 

Or rather, that something’s missing. 

“She’s giving a reading in the back.” 

He nearly drops both to-go cups, shoulders hunched and eyes wide as his heart recovers from the shock. Portia watches with a smile from her seat (on  _his_  seat by the window, mind you). Julian scowls. “Do you enjoy giving me heart attacks?” 

“Immensely.” 

The siblings grin, Portia hopping off the arm chair and deciding to lean against the windowsill instead, allowing her brother to carefully place the cups of coffee next to her as he drops his bag and takes off his coat. “What brings you here?” Julian asks as he settles into the green armchair, feeling his body instinctively relax; he notes that Yana’s placed several bundles of lavender to dry along with the other herbs she has hanging around the window. 

“Work, surprisingly.” Portia pulls her legs up onto the sill, crossing them as she explains, “Nadia’s been having awful headaches and insomnia in the run-up to the election, even though she really has nothing to worry about.” 

Even Julian knows that, though he’s fallen behind on local politics ever since willingly submitting himself to the all-encompassing void of med school. Still, he’s heard of Nadia Satrinava a few times in local news segments, and ever since he’s met her in person it seems like she’s made no shortage of appearances, campaigning for reform and rising to prominence even as a simple city council-member. That on top of what Portia’s told him has Julian sure that she’ll be re-elected by a landslide at least, if not given a solid gold key to the city. 

Portia’s brow furrows, her voice taking on a shade of concern. “But nothing was working, and I asked Yana if she had anything that might help and, well, you know Yana. She whipped up a tea, gave me sachets, the whole nine yards. Nadia’s been feeling better ever since.” 

Julian nods as he listens. “So where does the current reading come into play?” 

"Well it turns out Nadia’s pretty spiritual, too, and so she got really excited when she realized Yana might be the real deal. She wanted to get a reading and see the shop again as soon as possible – actually, since the bat mitzvah I missed last week – but with how busy her schedule’s been she's only just had some time available today.” 

_The bat mitzvah._  Julian’s eyes narrow slightly in thought, remembering what he wanted to talk to Yana about today. He’s noticed that something’s been off ever since that day; she’s been just a touch more distant, a hair distracted whenever they talk. 

“Eugh, is this just black coffee?” 

He snaps out of his thoughts to see Portia pulling a face, looking down at the to-go cup in her hands. Julian rolls his eyes with a smirk, standing and taking the cup from her as he mutters, “Yes, and it’s for  _me_ , Pasha.” 

She sticks her tongue out before her eyes travel to the other cup, an impish smile threatening to take over her lips. “Then this one’s for Yana?” she asks, a knowing glint in her eyes. 

Julian raises a brow, wondering where all this faux-innocence is coming from, but shrugs it off as another of his sister’s antics. “If you want to steal a sip, you’ll have to answer to her.” 

Portia hums, her lopsided grin growing. “Do you always get one for her when you visit?” 

He nods, explaining, “Usually it’d be tea, but she’s since switched to coffee. She’s been more tired than usual.” 

His sister watches him, recognizing the look of worried over-thinking beginning to form in his features, and waits for him to speak again. Julian hesitates, fidgeting with the cup in his hands and not quite able to look Portia in the eyes. “Did she – Has she said anything to you, recently?” 

Portia’s heart stops. 

 

Because Yana has most definitely said something to her recently. 

Because after the bat mitzvah, Yana called her to say that she was in love with Julian. 

And to also swear her to secrecy over the fact and insist that she wasn’t going to do anything about it because feelings are messy and this would all make things more complicated than they need to be. 

 

So Portia quickly clears her throat, hedging her way around the subject to try and figure out just how much her brother really knows. "What about?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just that...” Julian grows frustrated, taking a long sip of coffee as he composes his thoughts and looks at his sister, leg bouncing as he rambles, “Ever since the bat mitzvah, she’s been acting a little differently towards me. I would hope she isn’t upset, and I don’t think anything happened, but then I’m sure I must have said something, and to have dragged her to a giant party like that - “ 

“I don’t think she’s mad at you.” Portia cuts him off just before he can drag himself into a downward spiral, giving him a comforting smile. She swallows the smidge of guilt in her throat over having to half-lie to him before saying simply, “You should ask her about it, but she hasn’t said anything about being upset.” 

It’s not quite as satisfying of an answer as he wanted, but he nods, mind elsewhere and eyes back on the lid of his cup as he mumbles, “Right. You’re right, of course, so...right.” 

She wants to scream. Oh, she wants to scream so badly at both of them, but Portia bites her tongue, taking a deep breath and taking some small comfort in the fact that something’s going to give soon. Her ears pick up some rustling from the back room, and Julian senses it, too, and the two watch as Nadia emerges from the back, head held high and with an elegant smile. Yana follows soon after, setting a crystal – amethyst – before going to a shelf and pulling out a book. 

When she goes back to the counter, Nadia waiting patiently at the register, her eyes lock with Julian’s. He gives her a small smile, quickly leaning over towards the windowsill to pick up the coffee cup and raising it to show her. Her lips part for a moment and then she smiles back before focusing on ringing up Nadia. 

As Nadia accepts the paper bag, she pauses. “Do you happen to have any plans for Halloween?” 

Yana blinks, confusion settling in as she looks behind the councilwoman towards Portia and Julian. The trio usually try to make plans to celebrate together somehow, although the holiday seems to have snuck up on them this year without too much talk of what they wanted to do. “Not so far,” she replies slowly. 

Fishing around in her purse for only a moment, Nadia pulls out a gilded envelope, handing it to Yana as she explains, “I’ll be hosting a masquerade party. Portia may have mentioned it, since she’s been helping me plan. It’d be wonderful if you could make it.” Sensing Yana’s hesitation, she adds with another smile, “You’ve done so much for me, it really is the least I can do. Absolutely no hard feelings if it makes you uncomfortable and you’d rather not – I'll still be back for another reading soon.” 

Pulling out the invite, Yana’s eyes scan the purple and gold paper, feeling all too out of her comfort zone. When she looks up, though, all she can find is Nadia’s assuring smile, and Julian’s curious, excited face behind her. 

“I think I can swing by.” 

“Fantastic!” Nadia turns towards the door and waits for Portia to hop off the windowsill and join her before she waves. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Julian watches them leave, hearing a snippet of Nadia’s praise of the reading as she exits, and a burst of pride blooms in his chest. As much as he may tease Yana for the lack of science behind what she does, there’s no denying that she’s good at it, and it's nice to see others recognize it. He stands, walking to the counter and offering Yana her cup as he drinks from his own. She thanks him, taking a quick sip before setting it down and picking the invitation back up. 

As she looks over it, Julian leans over her shoulder, oblivious to the fact that his face is inches from hers. 

Yana might have also been oblivious to that fact a week ago, but now she can’t help but stiffen, the blush from earlier trying to make a comeback. 

Julian hums as he reads, stopping when his eyes land on the last line and he purrs, “I can’t help but notice that there’s a ‘plus one’ included...” 

“Know anyone who’d like to go with me?” She swallows a lump that’s formed in her throat, doing her best to hide the nerves. 

“As a matter of fact, there’s a rather charismatic medical student who’d jump at the offer.” 

“Then it looks like we’re going to another party.” They share a grin, before Yana sighs, “And I’ll need to find a mask.” It’s not a huge deal, but with everything else she has to do in the next two weeks, scrounging up a fancy Halloween costume isn’t something she’d love to add to the list. 

Julian chuckles, leaning against the counter. “You realize you’re talking to a former theater kid who’s never thrown away a costume?” 

“Oh believe me, I know – Portia’s shown me your plague doctor collection.” 

He groans, muttering something under his breath as a shade of pink crawls up his neck. Yana laughs, remembering the photos of pointy masks and dark uniforms that Portia revealed to her months ago. 

She sets the invite on the counter, eyes never leaving it as she takes another drink from her to-go cup. Her gaze roams over the golden script, head swimming in the formality of the whole thing. “This seems...fancy.” 

“Downright extravagant is more like it.” Julian picks up the invitation to scrutinize it closer; Yana very nearly teases him about the fact that he really does need glasses (a long-held debate they’ve had), but decides against it, instead smiling to herself at the look of concentration that scrunches up his nose and furrows his brows. He continues, “She’s already engaged to the richest prick around, but Portia mentioned that the Satrinavas are old money.” 

Yana deadpans, “Perfect, the only thing better than a crowd of people – a crowd of rich people.” 

Julian chuckles, but when he looks at her he’s nothing but serious, gently asking, “You sure you want to go?” 

And she knows that if she says the word, he’d drop it right now, would start ranting against the masquerade and disavowing the entire affair. But she knows just how excited he is, though he does his best to hide it. Still, there’s no hiding the light in his eyes when he looks at the invite, the sheer delight working through his brain as he thinks of costumes. 

She shrugs, giving him a lopsided smile. “What better way to see how the other half lives?” 

“It’ll be fun.  _I’ll_  make it fun,” he promises, both of them knowing the unspoken relief he feels at her answer. Julian throws the invitation back onto the counter as he places a hand on her shoulder, gesturing around with his coffee cup as he says, “We’ll sing, dance, drink, and be merry. I promise, you’ll have such a good time that I’ll have you dancing on tables before you know it.” 

Yana laughs, doing her best to focus on the words and not on the sensation of his hand on her shoulder, on the sure and steady grip he has, and how that might feel if -  

“I don’t doubt it,” she mumbles, and she really doesn’t. 

He notices the strange energy around her response, and pauses, removing his hand and turning to face her completely as he clears his throat. Yana watches, about to ask what’s wrong when he beats her to the punch. 

“Has everything been...okay?” He’s truly nervous, both hands fidgeting with his cup as he continues, keeping his gaze locked on hers, “I don’t want to assume, or intrude, but you’ve just been a little distant this past week, and I’m wondering if it’s something I did.” 

“No, no, you’re - it’s nothing you did.” She almost tells him that of course it’s nothing he did, because there’s nothing he  _could_  do to really upset her, not when  _she loves him._  

Yana takes a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside as she sets her cup on the counter. When she opens her eyes, he’s still watching her, like she holds the secret of the world and he’s dying to hear her whisper it. The incessant butterflies she’s been fighting for the past week have decided to return tenfold, but she keeps her voice steady as she explains, “I’ve had a lot to think about. I’m sorry if I’ve been taking it out on you.”  

And because she can’t stand the worried look in his eyes, or the fact that he’s had to think he’s done something wrong for so long, she pulls him into a hug, mumbling into his chest, “I promise I’m not upset.” 

Julian stiffens from shock for a moment. As physically affectionate as he may be, Yana isn’t usually the one to initiate, and with how tightly she holds him, he can't help but feel that there’s something just under the surface that she won’t let him help her with. He wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair as he whispers, a smirk growing, “You know I’m always willing to lend an ear. I promise I stop rambling sometimes.” 

She hugs him tighter, closing her eyes. “I know.”  

 

And she really does. 

But this may just be the one thing she can never tell him. 

 

* * *

 

When the mood is a little lighter an hour later, Julian can’t help but start to brainstorm costumes out loud, Yana listening with a smile as she gathers bundles of herbs for another sachet. 

“You know, now that you’ve reminded me about all those masks, I may just have to go as a plague doctor.” She looks over at him to find Julian waggling his brows, a smarmy grin on his face that forces a chuckle out of her as he adds, “Or perhaps a dashing pirate? Some irresistible combination of the two?” 

Yana rolls her eyes, but thinks for a moment. She observes him, making him fidget under her gaze before she says in all seriousness, “You might actually look good with an eye patch.” 

And for half a second, Julian thinks he might just start wearing one. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't help myself with a little meta-humor. Also just realized that midterm elections are on my mind since Nadia's political career managed to slip its way in here...


	14. next time

 

* * *

 

_In which they are definitely not wearing a couple’s costume._

 

* * *

 

Julian waits outside Yana’s apartment, leaning against his car before becoming paranoid that he’s gotten dust on his suit. He quickly stands, doing his best to look over his shoulder and see if he’s wrinkled his pants or crumpled the coat tails. Deciding that he’ll just have to ask Yana when she comes out, he sighs, fidgeting with the mask in his hands and choosing to stand rather than lean. 

He gets a wave of déjà vu, simultaneously smiling and cringing at the memories of his prom night. It feels a million years away, but he can vaguely recall doing much the same – getting dressed up (arguably overdressed), waiting for his date with his car – but the clearest part was that same stew of nervousness and excitement that flutters in his chest. 

It’s a nice moment of nostalgia as he waits, until a thought gives him pause. 

_What exactly am I nervous about now?_  

There was plenty to be nervous about when he was barely eighteen and far too self-conscious. Now, though, he can’t quite pinpoint where the nerves are coming from. It’s not like they’re crashing the party, and considering they won’t know anyone there beyond Portia and Nadia, there really isn’t anyone he needs to impress. 

 

_Except for Yana._  

 

He blinks, startled with himself, before he sets to chewing on his bottom lip. Of course, he feels responsible in making sure she has a good time tonight, and he wants everyone to be impressed with his costume, but why does her name specifically stick out in his mind and come with a flush that colors his neck? 

The front door opens, and Julian is grateful to be snapped out of this particular path of thought. He opens his mouth to tease her for being late, but when he looks up, his mouth goes dry and every coherent thought he’s ever had in his life leaves his brain. 

She focuses carefully on the steps – she's not wearing particularly high heels, but she’s very much out of practice. With each step, he can see a flash of her leg through the slit of her long, dark blue dress. He forces himself to look away, chastising himself for the thoughts that have made themselves home in his head, only to focus on her bare shoulders. The halter neck leaves much of her shoulders and back exposed, but a gauzy, glittering gold shawl of constellations is wrapped around her. 

She grips the fabric tightly until she’s reached the bottom of the stairs, pleased with herself as she looks up at him. Her eyes sparkle behind the black and gold half-mask, the top morphing into two large bat ears. Her hair is twisted and coiled, mindful of the mask’s ribbon that ties on the back of her head. 

“Sorry I’m late, Portia insisted I follow the hair tutorial she sent me and it was damn near impossible,” she apologizes, and Julian can see her lips moving but he can’t quite hear what she’s saying. 

He’s actually not entirely sure how to breathe right now. 

Yana falters. “It looks bad.” 

“ _No!”_ She jumps in her skin, and he startles himself with how visceral his reaction is. He clears his throat, quickly adding with a wide grin, “You look terrific! I just...well, I’m speechless, really.” 

Her tanned skin just barely hides her blush, and her mind searches quickly for something else to say so she doesn’t dwell on the ludicrously warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. She settles on commenting on his outfit, opening her mouth to tease him about pulling out one of his old plague doctor masks when she pauses, taking in the black and red color scheme, and the flash of fake fangs he’s put on. 

She frowns. 

“You realize Portia’s going to roast us, right?” 

Julian’s brows furrow. “What for?” 

“We’re doing a couple’s costume.” 

The last of the color in his face drains, and he stammers at the very thought, at the very word:  _couple_. Yana doesn’t look much more comfortable with it, but she can ignore her own fluster in favor of being amused at his, watching him struggle as he argues, “It’s not! We didn’t coordinate this at all.” 

“We probably should have,” she mutters, “Because a vampire and a bat seem, to the untrained eye, like a couple’s costume.” 

“I’m not just a vampire! I’m also a werewolf.” 

She blinks, unable to help the snort that escapes her. “ _What_?” 

He very nearly takes offense, but then he sees how her eyes sparkle as she bites back her laugh, and he can’t help but grin. Leaning into it, he points out with a grand sweep of his arms, “A werewolf looks like any other man during the day! Who’s to say that with a full moon I won’t transform into a gruesome beast?” 

Yana rolls her eyes, but her smile is warm as she watches him open the passenger side door for her. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she mutters, pausing before she gets into the car. 

Julian just grins. “I promise, no one is going to say it.” 

 

* * *

 

“Nice couple's costume.” 

It’s the first thing Portia says when she sees them approaching her spot at the bar, smirking when her brother looks sheepish and Yana gives him a deadpan ‘I told you so’ stare. 

She spotted them from across the garden, through the throng of people, and has already started on their usual drinks, presenting them with the tastefully gilded glasses. She’s kept her costume simple so she can easily move around, down to her mask, which consists of nothing more than a strip of black fabric across her eyes, not quite obscuring her green eyeshadow. 

Julian and Yana graciously accept their drinks, desperately needing it after the extensive security check they had to go through and the massive crowd of people they’ve just escaped. However, Julian frowns before he takes a sip, arguing, “It’s not a couple’s costume – we didn’t plan it, and I’ve also clearly mixed in werewolf motifs along with the vampire costume.” 

His sister raises a brow, leaning on the bar as she mumbles, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

He has no response except to blush, his mind immediately frazzling at the thought. As Julian takes a long drink to try and hide the pink that stains his cheeks, Yana asks, “So what’s your costume?” 

Portia points to her mask. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle,  _d_ _u_ _h_.” 

“Oh, of course.” Yana takes a sip from her drink, eyes scanning the crowd around them in the garden. There are more people here than she hoped, and though she does her best to hide her grimace, Julian can spot it from a mile away. 

She doesn’t see the small, knowing smile on his lips, but she does feel the reassuring hand he places on his shoulder, and looks up to see him wink. “This crowd of political fat cats seems a bit dull,” he jokes, careful to keep his voice down in case anyone overhears, “But the venue is incredible.” 

And it is; an old mansion in the hills of Vesuvia, with breathtaking vistas and a sprawling garden, complete with a pool filled with floating flowers, a hedge maze, and a large dancefloor filled with swaying bodies as a string quartet plays in a nearby ivy-covered gazebo. 

“How did you two even find this place?” Yana asks Portia as Julian takes a drink. 

“This is Nadia’s house.” 

Yana gapes and Julian chokes. After trying to wrap her mind around the idea that anyone could actually live here, Yana finally blurts, “Portia this is a fucking palace.” 

“I  _know_.” Portia leans on the bar, whispering conspiratorially, “Guys, I wasn’t kidding when I said she’s rich. She’s like, practically royal rich.” 

Unable to help herself, Yana teases, “You should’ve applied to be her sugar baby instead of her personal assistant.” 

Her blush makes the other two laugh, and she’s about to retaliate when her eyes spot an approaching figure and she smiles, her face brightening to near-blinding levels. “Hello, Nadia!” 

“Good evening, Portia.” Julian and Yana turn to see Nadia in an elegant white ballgown of lace and feathers, complete with a delicate mask. She smiles at both of them, saying, “Ah, I’m so glad you two could make it.” 

“Thanks again for inviting us,” Yana responds, Julian nodding fervently as he subconsciously places his hand back on her shoulder. 

“It was truly very generous of you,” he adds, “So thank you for allowing us into your home, and you look fantastic this evening.” 

Nadia notes the move with a raised brow, and seems to appraise their costumes before her eyes spark in recognition of something. “Thank you – you both look lovely as well. I’m not usually one for couple’s costumes, but I like the subtlety of yours.” 

Portia laughs behind them as Yana and Julian freeze, looking to each other with panic before both turning and opening their mouths to try and explain the situation. Before they can clear things up, however, a nasally voice sends their stomachs sinking. 

“Noddy!” 

Nadia frowns, before taking a deep breath and composing her face once more, just in time for Lucio to stumble out of the crowd and join her at her side. He’s clearly had three too many drinks, and he leans against her for support. His gauzy shirt leaves little to the imagination as it borders on transparent, but even so he’s decided to leave it mostly unbuttoned, sloppily tucked into crisp white trousers (that have a nice pink stain on the thigh from a glass of wine). His mask also has a cheap halo attached that swings with every move of his head as he whines, “You left me for  _ages_!” 

“I had to greet guests. It’s been twenty minutes.” With what she can manage to muster into a smile, she gestures to the pair in front of them and mumbles, “You remember Yana and Julian, the two who helped find Melchior and Mercedes?” 

“Yeah,” he drawls, with the confidence of someone who clearly does not remember the two, “Yeah, yeah – Jules and uh, Yanny are great.” Ignoring the clear displeasure on their faces at the lackluster nicknames, Lucio pauses, focusing his gaze on Yana as his mind struggles to think. When he’s managed to form his thought, he straightens for a moment with a malicious smirk before leaning in closer to her. Yana’s nose scrunches, smelling the liquor that rolls off his breath as he purrs, “I need to have a word with you.” 

Not one to flinch, Yana snaps, “What about?” 

His smirk widens into a wolfish grin. “It’s a surprise.”  

The wink he gives her has Julian tightening his grip on her shoulder protectively, and Nadia can sense the tension in the air. Quickly, she subtly pulls Lucio back by the collar of his shirt, addressing Julian and Yana with an apologetic smile. “Well surely that can wait. They’ve only just arrived! Please, go and explore the grounds, there’s so much that I’d love for you to see and participate in, especially on the first floor.” 

“Sounds wonderful.” And Yana gratefully takes the escape route presented, grabbing Julian’s hand and leading the two far away. 

Even as they walk away, Lucio calls after them, “Save me a dance, shopkeep!” 

Yana’s grip on Julian’s hand tightens, and he squeezes back, knowing in that moment that he’d do anything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen. 

 

* * *

 

They follow Nadia’s advice and wander the estate, Julian ending up leading the way and Yana following quickly behind with her snide remarks. The pair stumble upon a buffet, several string quartets, and even a room overtaken by bubbles – Yana feels her feet growing tired and is almost ready to call it a night when Julian catches sight of a grand ballroom at the end of the hall with silks hanging from the ceiling, and without a word he leads her on, following the crowd. 

“Where are we going?” she asks with a laugh, not minding the mass of people closing in when he’s holding her hand. 

Julian flashes a roguish grin over his shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure, but it looks like the circus might be in town.” 

For just a moment, her face darkens, but he blinks and misses it and Yana falls silent into her thoughts. They follow the flow of the crowd into the ballroom, grabbing some standing spots to the side as the show begins with a flurry of movement. A fire-breather begins to mystify the crowd as a pair of acrobats gracefully twirl on aerial silks. Yana stiffens, her eyes focusing on the shimmering costumes. 

Julian notices her set jaw and uncomfortable stare, asking softly, “Everything all right?” 

She hesitates, but knows there’s no use lying to him – there isn’t a single bone in her body that even wants to, really – and so she replies, not quite able to meet his gaze, “I know this troupe.” 

His brows furrow as he looks between the performers and Yana. “Not a fan?” 

A ripple of awe runs through the crowd, and the two turn back their attention to see that a contortionist has begun their act, wowing the audience with every bend of their body. Julian is enraptured as more of the acrobats join them, tumbling even in the small space provided to them as a makeshift stage. Yana watches him with a small smile, engraving the excited expression on his face into her memory. 

When she turns to watch the last of the performance, she finally answers his question with a smirk. 

 

“Depends; can you really be a fan of your former employer?” 

 

And as the performers strike their final pose and the crowd erupts into applause, Julian whips his head to look down at her with wide eyes and mouth agape. “Your  _what_?” As the crowd begins to disperse and the performers take a break, Julian splutters, “H-how did I not know this? How has this not come up even once? It’s been what, two? Yes, two years that I’ve known you and I’m only just now learning that you joined the circus!” 

She tries not to fidget too much, crossing her arms and offering him only a shrug. “It’s not exactly something you can just slip into conversation.” 

“Well now I need to know everything.” And he looks at her, confident and not willing to budge, before deflating slightly, taking in her shrinking stance and avoidant gaze. His tone shifts into something much softer as he adds, “Unless, of course, you’d rather not talk about it.” 

“Yana!” 

The two turn, and before them is a short man with sparkling amber eyes, grinning ear to ear as he approaches them both with flutes of champagne. He stops a foot away, still smiling as he says, “I thought I saw you while I was up there, but it’s always hard to tell with a mask.” 

“Ibhan,” she breathes, smiling as she does her best to give him a hug despite the drinks in his hands. “It’s been a while.” When she steps back, she looks to up at Julian and gestures to the acrobat. “Julian, this is Ibhan; he was my trapeze partner.” 

“More like your big brother,” he teases before passing them both the flutes of champagne and explaining, “These are for you. Figured I shouldn’t come over empty-handed.” 

“Thank you.” Julian accepts the glass and gives the man a nod and warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

He mirrors the smile with a nod. “The pleasure’s all mine.” With an impish glint, he leans in and asks, “Now tell me, is Yana still as rowdy as I remember?” 

Julian blinks; there are many words to describe Yana, but ‘rowdy’ isn’t one of the first hundred that would cross his mind. He looks at her to find that she’s blushing, avoiding his gaze as he mumbles, “No, I don’t believe so...” 

Ibhan laughs. “That’s a shame. You wouldn’t believe the trouble we’d get ourselves into that I’d have to pull her out of.” He elbows her with a waggle of his brows, telling Julian, “We used to say it wasn’t a real night out with the Comets troupe unless it ended with Yana starting a bar fight.” 

“Really?” 

She looks up at Julian with a sheepish half-smile, but he can only look down at her in wonder, something passing behind his eyes that she can’t quite identify but that almost sends a shiver down her spine. “I was a little...pugnacious.” 

“To say the least.” Ibhan shakes his head, chuckling, “I remember when you showed up to a performance with a black eye for the third time. Lani was furious, but what could they do? You were one of our best performers.” He pauses, eyes lighting up before he tells her, “I have to get backstage soon, but could we catch up? We’re in town for the month, I’m sure everyone would love to see you again.” 

“So long as no one dares me to pick a fight with the toughest customer,” she jokes, pulling her phone out and handing it over, watching as Ibhan quickly types in his number. 

“Well it was great to see you again.” He hands her phone back and pulls her into a final hug, turning and giving Julian a firm handshake as he adds, “And wonderful to meet you, Julian.” 

“Likewise.” 

Ibhan turns and begins heading back to join the rest of the troupe, but throws a smile over his shoulder. “Great couple’s costume by the way!” 

And the two can only take a long drink in response. 

 

* * *

 

As they head out of the ballroom, making their way back towards the garden, Julian still has a thousand new thoughts buzzing in his head. He tries not to stare at Yana as they walk, but it’s hard; he’s trying to picture her younger,  _rowdier_ , and yet managing to become someone so withdrawn and calm. The images just won’t match up, and he chews his cheek in thought as he debates if he wants to bring this up again, especially considering how clearly embarrassed she is about it. 

Yana, sensing his turmoil, takes another long sip of champagne and makes the decision for him. 

“I joined just before I graduated.” 

He blinks, the two pausing by a buffet table outside, just next to the dancefloor. The melodies of the string quartet reach their ears, and helps give Yana the assurance that no one else will overhear as she continues, “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life. Considering I nearly failed out of community college, I wasn’t feeling too great about my future.” 

She pauses, gauging his reaction, and realizes that he’s simply patiently listening, curious and eager to hear more without a trace of reproach. A corner of her mouth lifts, and she leans against the table, looking back out at the dancefloor filled with Vesuvia’s best and brightest – a crowd she’s never felt a part of. “But I was still doing gymnastics, and the Comets were having auditions, so I figured why not.” 

“You joined the circus,” he chuckles, absolutely fascinated that someone he knows so well still has so many sides to her that he hasn’t seen. 

She nods. “I joined the circus. And I was a mess in everything else, so I ended up leaving after two years.” 

He watches her take another sip of champagne, and he can see the melancholy drifting into her features. “Do you miss it?” he asks, leaning in just a hair. 

Yana shrugs. “Complicated.” She looks up at him, realizing how close his face now is and having to swallow before she explains, “I miss the people, but I don’t miss who I was. I don’t exactly pride myself on heavy drinking and bar fights.” 

Julian considers this, and they stand and drink in silence for a moment before he decides that he has to lighten the mood. He promised she would have fun tonight, and he’s going to make good on his word. 

“I still can’t picture it,” he mumbles, looking down at her with a smirk as he purrs, “You don’t look strong enough to have been an acrobat, and I don’t pin you as very flexible.” 

His playful tone sparks her own, and Yana bites her cheek as she tilts her glass from side to side, watching the golden liquid swirl. She looks out on the dance floor, and an idea strikes her just as the quartet begins a tango. She knocks back the last of the champagne, needing the liquid courage, and then takes Julian by the hand, leading him out onto the dance floor as he stumbles behind. 

“I thought you don’t dance in public,” he mumbles, already putting a hand on her waist and holding her right. 

She only smirks. “I do if I need to prove a point. Follow my lead.” 

And he does, Yana beginning a poor man’s tango as they twirl along the floor, and Julian feels himself smiling, absolutely giddy at the thought that without much effort they’re almost perfectly in sync. 

 

Then Yana begins proving her point. 

 

Without blinking an eye, she guides him into a dip, Julian wide-eyed as she effortlessly holds him just inches off the ground. He looks up at her, something stirring in his stomach as he swallows hard. “...so you’re stronger than I thought.” 

She lifts him back up, raising a brow. “Does that bother you?” 

“Quite the opposite.” He immediately presses his mouth tightly shut, entire face engulfed in a blush. 

Yana laughs, not quite catching the full intent of his words as she continues their impromptu tango, stopping them a moment later to slide one leg behind her, dropping down into a lunge that luckily her dress can handle with the slit. 

“Y-you’ve made your point,” Julian stammers, hearing his own heart pound in his ears as she stands back up with another laugh, leading them around the dancefloor. 

“Are you sure?” she asks, managing to wrap her leg around his waist, despite how much taller he is. 

He clears his throat, twirling her out as he chuckles, “I’m eating crow, and without so much as a spoonful of sugar.” 

“So poetic, even in your humiliation.” 

“Just one of my many talents.” 

The string quartet finishes, the crowd applauding before the melody transitions into a new song, and Julian leads Yana off the dancefloor with a smile.  

She sits in a nearby chair, glad for the break because though she hasn’t lost much of her flexibility or strength, she’s starting to realize that she probably should have stretched beforehand. Julian gives her a sympathetic smile, bowing with a flourish. “Another one of my talents is also being an excellent plus one, so let me get us some drinks.” 

Yana levels him with a look. “Are you going to make Portia make you a Salty Bitters?” 

His grin is a million miles wide and full of bad ideas. “Absolutely.” 

She matches it with one of her own. “Make it two.” 

He walks with a hop in his step, and Yana watches with a smile as she massages her ankles, thankful that they managed to hold up in the heels. 

When she looks back up, she meets a very different pair of silver eyes. 

 

“I’m cashing in that dance.” 

 

* * *

 

Julian Devorak isn’t one to get angry. 

Self-loathing and melancholy come and go daily, but anger? No, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s truly felt a fury in his blood, really had his vision go red. 

But walking back with two drinks in his hands, only to see a sneering Lucio clutching at one of the people he cares most about in this world as she looks around desperately for an escape, looking like she’s on the verge of frustrated tears, he gets angry. 

 

He gets angrier than he’s ever been before. 

 

The drinks are forgotten on some table – he can’t remember much about the walk over as he shoves people out of the way, his eyes overtaken by tunnel vision until he reaches the pair, placing a forceful hand on Lucio’s shoulder. 

Lucio turns, face halfway to a snarl before it stops, faltering when he sees the glare that Julian gives him as he slowly squeezes his shoulder ever tighter. 

“May I cut in?” he grounds out, making it clear that this isn’t a question, it’s a demand. 

The blond lets go of Yana, looking between the two with a scowl and realizing that if he doesn’t want to cause a scene (and risk an uppercut from a medical student or a lengthy speech from his fiancée) then he has to walk away. He straightens his shirt, harrumphing to himself before giving Yana one final look, a lecherous smile curling his lips as he purrs, “We’ll finish this later.” 

“No, I don’t think you will.” Julian steps between the two, crossing his arms and blocking Lucio’s view of the short woman. His glare hardens, and Lucio only frowns as he slinks away into the crowd, snapping at the few people watching the scene play out. 

The second he’s out of sight, Julian’s shoulders slump and he turns, worry evident in his face as he tells Yana, “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about him. I shouldn’t have left you alone for that long, I just thought -” 

Her hug cuts him off, her arms wrapping tightly around him as she buries her face in his chest. He freezes for a moment, before wrapping his arms around her and letting her relief wash over him and soothe his temper and concern. 

“Thank you,” she mumbles, pulling away just slightly to give him a grateful smile. “I’m glad you cut in when you did.” Seeing that he’s still chewing his bottom lip with furrowed brows, Yana gives him a lopsided smile and adds, “And I’m still glad I came tonight with you.” 

He doesn’t quite look like he believes her, and he asks, “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to take you home? I can get you back now if...” 

She waits for him to realize he’s rambling, and Julian catches himself, leaving his thought unfinished. She shakes her head, beginning to feel like herself again as he holds her and says, “I just want to dance.” 

The music is slow and sweet, and Julian hesitates. “Are you sure?” 

But she nods, and he holds her hand and they begin a slow dance in their corner of the dancefloor, Yana pressed close to him and Julian never taking his eyes off of her. He never realizes how small she is, but now she seems tiny and weighed down by something; he’d give anything to take that weight on himself if it would help her even a little. 

“I haven’t gotten a chance to say it, but I really did have fun tonight.” She looks up at him, adding with a mischievous lilt, “Although we didn’t dance on any tables.” 

Julian laughs, glad that she’s back to making jokes. “We’ll save it for next time.” He falters again, his smirk cracking into self-doubt. “Unless, of course, you’d rather there  _not_  be a ‘next time.’” 

Yana smiles, squeezing his hand. 

 

“I always want a ‘next time’ with you.” 

 

* * *

 

They end up winning second place for ‘Best Couple’s Costume’. 

Portia can’t stop laughing at them for the rest of the evening. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little rough and unedited but this such a behemoth of a chapter that I just wanted to post it as soon as possible because a Halloween chapter in December is odd enough as it is
> 
> Some fun (?) things to note: All the costumes are based off an ask about Halloween costumes that the official Arcana tumblr answered, except for Yana's which is based off of what I imagine her wearing to the in-game masquerade. Yana's backstory here is based a little off of the backstory I created for her in the game, now featuring at least 75% less sadness. And lastly, I didn't mean for this chapter to be so long I'm so sorry


	15. so much to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied heavy drinking and light injury in case that squicks anyone, it's nothing graphic though.

 

* * *

 

_In which she’s sorry._

 

* * *

 

 _**From: Yanina [2:03]** _  
_aare  you a_

 _**From: Yanina [2:03]** _  
_wake_

_**From: Yanina [2:0 4 ]  
** ? _

 

Julian reaches a hand out, tapping around blindly on the bedside table until his hand hits his phone. He brings it to his face, checking the notifications and wondering just who on earth is trying to reach him at two in the morning. 

He shoots straight up when he sees that it’s three messages from Yana. 

Even with how late she’s been sleeping, she never messages him past ten, knowing that he needs to get up for his early shift. He very nearly calls her because it must be an emergency, but then he reads the messages and realizes what’s happening. 

 _My god she’s drunk._  

Which still brings up a whole host of worries, and so he’s quick to type out his response. 

 

 **_From: Ilyushka [2:06]_ **  
_Yes, what’s going on?_

 **_From: Ilyushka [2:06]_ **  
_Is everything okay??_

**_From: Yanina [2:07]_ **  
_yes_

 **_From: Yanina [2:08]_ **  
_nooo_

 

Julian frowns, trying to discern just how drunk she really is. While he might usually be laughing at the thought of her trying to type all this out, tongue sticking out in concentration and fingers fumbling on the keys, it would be a lot funnier of a mental image if he knew she was at home and not stumbling around in the city this late at night. 

**_From: Ilyushka [2:08]_ **  
_Where are you?_

**_From: Yanina [2:09]_ **  
_can I  cime_

 **_From: Yanina [2:09]_ **  
_ovver ? Shut_

 

He’s already standing, throwing on the old t-shirt that’s on the floor because it’s the closest article of clothing he can find. As he flips on the light to help him find a pair of pants, he quickly types out a response. 

 

 **_From: Ilyushka [2:10]_ **  
_Of course, hang on and I’ll come and get you!_

 **_From: Ilyushka [2:11]_ **  
_Where are you, exactly?_

****

**_From: Yanina [2:11]_ **  
_at ur  appartment  lol_

 

Just as he opens the closet door, her latest text comes through and there’s a knock on his door. Without another thought (including the fact that he’s about to answer his front door in nothing but boxers and a high school theater shirt) he goes and opens the door, phone still in hand and thoughts jumping to the worst possible conclusion. 

She’s slumped against the wall, the hood of her coat up and her hands in her pockets. 

He calls out quietly, a disbelieving whisper, “Yana?” 

And when she looks up with a sheepish, dazed smile, his stomach drops at the sight. 

A cut across her cheek, a busted bottom lip, and a black eye beginning to form. 

She pushes herself off the wall, drawling, “Hey. S’late, I’m sorry, I -” 

She trips over nothing, Julian managing to catch her by the shoulders. He gently ushers her inside his apartment, closing the door behind him as he rambles, “No it’s no problem at all – well, sort of a problem, the problem being that you’ve shown up at my door very drunk looking like you just got in a fight.” 

“Not even drunk,” she mumbles, giving him the world’s slowest wink, “I’m barely tipsy, Ilyushka.” She takes a glance around his studio apartment, about to comment on something before he forces her to sit on the edge of his bed, and she emits a small groan, trying to rub at the back of her thigh. “That’s gonna hurt.” 

He takes a moment to take a deep breath, and then he’s entered full doctor mode, grabbing the first aid kit under the sink as he asks, “What happened?” 

She shrugs before realizing that he has his back to her, and responds, “Went to a bar.” But then her head starts spinning again, and she lets herself fall back, collapsing clumsily on his mattress. “Dizzy.” 

Julian gnaws at his bottom lip when he turns and sees her staring listlessly at the ceiling, arms outstretched. He makes a mental note to keep her talking, just to make sure she stays conscious, although she doesn’t seem too far gone. His most immediate concern is her facial wounds, and as he walks back towards her, he nudges, “What happened after you got to the bar?” 

“Met Ibhan.” She snorts for no apparent reason, grinning at his ceiling fan. “He’s funny. Oh man, you gotta see Ibhan drunk, he’s...yeah.” 

“Sit up, please.” He leans down, setting the first aid kit beside her on the bed before helping her sit up, making sure she’s steady. His eyes are drawn to her hands as she uses them to balance for a moment, and he quickly adds, “Take your coat off.” 

She bites her bottom lip, shaking her head slowly. Her hands retreat further into the sleeves. 

“Please?” 

Yana looks up at him, looks up to see his patient, caring face, and feels her heart sink with guilt. Slowly and with her eyes back on the floor, she shrugs off her coat, Julian helping her take it off and setting it aside. She sits on her hands, immediately wincing despite her attempt to hide it. 

Julian sighs. “I can’t help you if you don’t show me your hands.” 

She closes her eyes and sets her hands on her lap. Her knuckles are bruised, but look otherwise fine. Still, his brows shoot up and he mutters, “So you  _did_  get into a fight.” 

She tries to crack a smirk, but with the fog in her eyes it’s more melancholic than snarky. “You should see the other guy.” 

“Yes, I’d like to,” he quips, his hands clenching to fists as he gets down on one knee, “I have a few things I’d like to do to whoever’s responsible for this, but that’s neither here nor there. Did you hit your head at any point?” 

It takes her a second too long to think, but she shakes her head. “Nah.” 

“And you’re able to walk okay? You’re able to move everything?” He’s concerned about the grimace she made when she initially sat down, but he suspects that’s only a bruise. If she was somehow able to drag herself to his apartment from downtown, then there shouldn’t be anything broken. 

“Yeah, got here okay.” She can’t quite look at him, chewing on her bottom lip as he pauses in his work, sensing her hesitancy. With a hard swallow, she manages to admit, “Don’t wanna go home.” 

He frowns, looking at her for a moment and feeling his heart splinter in three spots. “Well, you’re always welcome here,” he whispers, simple and soft as he preps a cotton ball with antiseptic. The silence is heavy, and this close to her Julian can practically feel her body tensing. When he looks back up at her, her lips are parted and her cheek is still bleeding, but her eyes are a different story – there’s a heartache that cuts through the stupor of drunkenness, and it knocks him breathless for a moment. 

There’s a tragedy deep within her, but it blocks her throat, keeping her silent instead. 

Realizing that they’re staring at each other, too close for friends but too distant for something more, Julian clears his throat and remembers his plan to keep her awake, keep her talking (and keep her face from growing sadder). Forcing himself to crack a smirk, he adds, “Even when you’re drunk and getting into bar fights at an ungodly hour, you’re always welcome. After all,  _I_  live here; I doubt there’s any chaos you could bring that I haven’t caused already!” 

She’s still quiet, barely humming a response. He frowns, not able to stand the sight of her withering and withdrawing, and so he keeps up his cheery tone. “Now, we’re going to have to clean up some of these scrapes. This’ll sting, is that all right?” 

“S’okay.” 

He hesitates, Yana still looking at the bruised knuckles of her hands as she cradles them in her lap. With a sigh, he gently takes her chin in his hand, angling her face up so that he can work. She tenses for a moment, muttering a four-letter word under her breath when the antiseptic makes contact, but then relaxes as Julian cleans the scrape on her cheek. He bites his cheek in concentration, wondering in the back of his mind if he should say something, and decides to go back to his rambling, albeit slightly more subdued. It’s clear she isn’t in the mood for theatrics, so instead he decides for aimless story-telling, rambling, “You know, this is much easier to do on someone else – granted, I was also drunk, but I can’t tell you the number of times I nearly blinded myself with antiseptic. Surprised my eye hasn’t turned completely red by this point.” 

That manages to get a breathless chuckle out of her, and he smiles lopsidedly, eyes still focused on his work as he moves on to cleaning the blood around her lip. A flash of melancholy passes over his face as he mumbles, “Of course, I wasn’t quite getting into fights, so it was mostly an odd scratch from falling on the drunk walk home. Who could forget the black eye I gave myself from walking directly into a telephone pole?” 

He can feel a rush of air on his fingertips as she snorts, lips curling into a smile for a fraction of a second before it disappears, replaced with a frown. Julian forces himself to look away, to not be mesmerized by her mouth, and instead goes to throw the cotton ball away and get an ice pack from the freezer for her hands. In the moments of quiet, he wonders if she’s remembering when she first met him, too. A wave of déjà vu washes over him as Julian cringes at the memories of showing up at her door in a similarly beleaguered state, crying over one thing or another before passing out on the floor. 

And every morning, he would wake up on her couch with a blanket over him and a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen on the coffee table. 

“What made you stop?” 

Midway through wrapping a towel around the ice pack, Julian pauses, blinking at the question. Yana’s eyes lock onto his, searching for something as he crafts his answer. With a sigh and a tired smile, he walks back towards the bed, taking her hand in his. 

“You.” 

She swallows, her fingers twitching under the cold, but his hold is steady. Now he finds that he’s the one unable to look at her, explaining, “We met around the time I realized things were going south and I was...not coping, really. But you were the final push to get me out of it, the one who would support me without condoning, always ready to listen and patiently show me that there are other ways –  _better_ ways.” 

Something wet hits his palm, cutting his train of thought off. He very nearly makes a crack at his landlord’s expense, wondering if this leak in the roof is out to get them, when he hears a sniffle and looks up. 

In the years that he’s known her, Julian has never seen Yana cry. 

Not until now. 

She doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, though she blinks furiously to try and keep back the tears, biting her lip to keep any more noise from escaping. When she realizes that he’s watching her, a fresh wave of something dreadful hits her and a few more tears slide down her cheek as she chokes out, “Sorry. Sorry, I...” 

Without another moment of hesitation, Julian sits next to her and pulls her into a hug. “It’s okay,” he mumbles into her hair, pulling back to find that her sobbing isn’t stopping, and panicking, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Y-yes,” she stammers, her hands on his chest. She looks like she wants to bury herself further into his arms, but that she hates herself for it, and so instead she tries to calm her crying as she picks up the icepack and puts it back on her knuckles. “I woke you – sorry, I just – hypocrite. I’m a hypocrite.” 

There isn’t much in her rambling that makes sense, and so he just wraps his arms around her, letting her cry quietly as she continues to mumble, “I can’t - I want to tell you. So much to say, and I’m drunk at your place, and I...Sorry, stupid –  _ugh_ I’m stupid I just -” 

“You’re not.” He holds her tighter for a moment, thinking back on the past week since the masquerade. She’s seemed troubled by something, and it seems like every time he sees her, she’s somehow more tired, more ragged, barely hanging onto a thread of life. When her crying has calmed, he asks gently, “Is it something Lucio said to you?” 

She looks up at him, searching his face for something before she gives up, closing her eyes and begging the world to stop spinning for a moment. “Sort of...yeah.” 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

And though she starts to shake her head no, her mouth betrays her and she mumbles, “The store...trouble...” 

Julian perks up, all ears now that she seems finally open to talking. But he can see her head falling forward, and her breathing is getting slow, and he knows that it won’t be long until she’s out like a light. Julian sighs, a small smile creeping on his face as she tries to blink away the sleep, shaking her head slowly as if it’ll rouse her. With as much of a chuckle as he can muster, he gently lays her down on the bed, mumbling, “You should get some sleep – we can talk later. We  _should_  talk later.” 

She doesn’t put up a fight, nodding as she slowly lays down on her side, pulling his comforter close and nuzzling into the pillow beneath her head. He watches with a sad smile before standing, ready to try and make the couch as comfortable as possible for a few more hours of sleep. 

He feels something grab his shirt, and looks down to see her hand tugging at the fabric. Yana looks up at him, biting her lip and curling into herself. 

“Please stay.” 

He knows he shouldn’t. 

Because he knows that this is what he’s wanted for the better part of a year. 

She lets go of his shirt, face falling as she tries to hide. “Sorry. Stupid, I shouldn’t...” With nothing but a sigh left in her, she rolls over, pulling the blanket tighter against her. He can see her falling apart, the disjointed pieces sliding further and further away from each other and leaving a beating heart in the center. 

Without a word, he slowly slides into bed next to her, on top of the blanket, as though one wrong move will destroy everything. Her head turns, and she watches for a moment as he tries to get comfortable, perching himself on the very edge of the bed and giving her as much space as possible. Yana snorts, rolling her eyes before giving up the last of her shame and sidling up next to him, resting a hand and her head on his chest. 

Julian freezes, glad her fingers haven’t landed above his heart, or else the racing beat would give him away. She senses his tension, blinking away sleep as she asks, “This okay?” 

“Okay.” He swallows hard, only allowing himself to relax when he hears her breathing slow. He glances down, and a faint smile tugs at his lips as he watches sleep take over her features, relaxing them into the most serene expression he’s seen on her in weeks. He carefully brushes a strand of hair away from her face, letting her breathing lull him to sleep as he wraps his arms loosely around her. 

 

* * *

 

Julian ends up being five minutes late to his shift, and gets an earful from the others at the hospital. 

But it’s the best he’s slept in years. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been a minute, because this chapter was an emotional struggle to write, but we're back at it! With how this is shaping up, we're approaching an end, but it looks like it'll be at least five more chapters...
> 
> Also a cool moment when Julian included "come what may" in his confession scene, so I think I subconsciously slipped a few more meta references just for the hell of it


	16. doing okay

 

* * *

 

_In which Yana is not doing okay._

 

* * *

 

At the point when her dreams become a pleasant blur and her mind is shifting, Yana takes a deep breath of coffee and linen, and smiles as she buries her face further into the pillow. Her sheets are heavier than she remembered, and the smell is a little different, and – 

 _And she’s not in her bed._  

Her eyes burst open as she shoots up, sitting with a start before immediately regretting it, her temples throbbing and her stomach rolling. 

She falls back onto the pillows, draping an arm uselessly over her eyes. From the quick glance, she’s able to confirm that she’s in Julian’s apartment (in Julian’s  _bed_ ) and the events of last night trickle into her memory. 

It started with her looking at financial statements. 

It ended with her getting drunker than she’s been in years, fighting someone who looked at her funny, and then crying to Julian. 

Yana frowns at the ceiling. 

 _Oh gods this is embarrassing._  

A soft _ding_ brings her out of her mortification, and she rolls over, her headache following. She reaches down and her fingers brush the coat she was wearing last night, and with a little digging she manages to grab her phone out of the pocket. The screen is far too bright and right now being alive is all too tedious until she sees a tall glass of water and two pills on the bedside table. 

There’s a pleasantly warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach at the thought of Julian returning the favor of her taking care of him in his drunken stupors, but it’s quickly overtaken by the nausea and she quickly swallows the Ibuprofen and half the water and prays for some sort of relief soon. 

Now able to at least look at her phone, she sees that she has twenty-seven unread texts, and the nausea is back full-force. 

She can breathe a sigh of relief when sixteen of those notifications are from last night’s group chat, the others from the troupe that she went out with all letting each other know that they got home safe. With a few quick taps, she sends a text telling them that she’s also home (because she doesn’t have the energy or the lack of shame to even begin to explain how she ended up where she actually is). 

And then there are two messages from Julian. 

 

 _ **From:** **Ilyushka** **[6:08]**  _  
_Good morning! I’m heading out for the early shift,_  
_but there’s some water and Ibuprofen for you_  
_on the end table. Call or text me when you wake_  
_up, especially if you need anything! We should_  
_talk when you’re feeling up to it._

 

A jolt of panic rushes through her, leaving Yana lightheaded as she desperately remembers what she blabbered on about to him. She was doing so well with hiding, did she really let her feelings slip the second she took a tequila shot too many? 

Then her eyes drift to the next message, and a fresh new wave of dread washes over her. 

 

 _ **From:** **Ilyushka** **[6:10]**  _  
_It’s Pasha’s day off, too, so I’m sending her to_  
_check up on you!_

 

Now would be a good time to check on those nine unread messages from Portia. 

The first is a response to a barely comprehensible sentence that Yana sent her, and the rest send Yana on a lovely trip down Regret Avenue. 

 

 _ **From: Pasha [1:02]**  _  
_lmao are you drunk?_

 _ **From: Pasha [1:29]**  _  
_lmk when you make it home_

 _ **From: Pasha [1:43]**  _  
_hello??_

 _ **From: Pasha [9:14]**  _  
_k I just woke up and if this voicemail from_  
_ilya is about how you’re dead I’m gonna_  
_be so mad_

 _ **From: Pasha [9:16]**  _  
_omg_

 _ **From: Pasha [9:16]**  _  
_oh my fucking OGD_

 _ **From: Pasha [9:16]**  _  
_WHAT_

 _ **From: Pasha [9:17]**  _  
_oh there’s so much he didn’t tell me in_  
_that voicemail I just know it_

 _ **From: Pasha [9:18]**  _  
_I’m coming over rn immediately and you_  
_have so much explaining to do_

 

Portia lives about twenty minutes away, and a glance at her phone’s clock reveals that it’s now 10:04. Yana is too hungover to try doing the math – luckily, she doesn’t have to, because the front door lock is clicking open, and when she looks over at the approaching figure, she’s met with a highly amused Portia. 

“You’re literally in his-” 

“I  _know,”_  Yana groans, covering her face with her hands and begging the nausea to stop, for Portia to stop, for her feelings to stop, for everything to  _just stop already_. 

She can’t see it, but she can feel Portia’s eyes filling with pity, and it only makes the whole situation worse. “Well, you can’t explain on an empty stomach.” There’s a clatter in the kitchen moments later, of Portia shedding her coat and rummaging through Julian’s cupboards and fridge, calling over her shoulder, “Let Ilya know you’re alive and I’ll make you the patented Devorak Hangover Cure.” 

Yana peeked up over the headboard. “With bok choy?” 

Portia turns to give her a brilliant smile, but follows it quickly with a groan as she scans the relatively sparse fridge. “No promises – when’s the last time he went grocery shopping?” 

Probably with Yana, a few weeks ago. She keeps her mouth shut, however, burying the memory as she lays back down on the bed ( _his_  bed, that smells exactly like him but better somehow). Lifting her phone, her fingers hesitate, and she deletes and retypes her message at least three times before hitting send. 

 

 _ **From: Yanina [10:11]**  _  
_Alive and awake and never drinking again._  
_Thanks for taking care of me, and you’re_  
_right, we should talk soon_

 

After a moment of hesitation, she lets out a sigh and decides that she can at least fill him in on half of the truth. 

 

 _ **From: Yanina [10:13]**  _  
_I think I’m losing the shop_

 

“I worked a damn miracle in this kitchen!” 

She nearly slams her phone face-down on the bedside table, heart racing at the sound of Portia’s voice. The young woman gives Yana a raised brow, but otherwise doesn’t prod, instead waiting for her to sit up so she can offer a steaming bowl of instant ramen with various toppings scraped together from Julian’s cupboards. 

Yana accepts the bowl and chopsticks and takes a long, appreciative whiff, her stomach growling its approval. Portia laughs as she takes a seat, watching her hungover friend begin to scarf down the dish as if she hasn’t eaten in seventeen days. After a few moments of a comfortable silence, Portia’s brows furrow at the sight of Yana’s bruised knuckles. “Jesus, I thought Ilya was overreacting, but you really got into a fight.” 

“Yeah, I...” Yana sighs, pausing in her eating and placing the bowl in her lap. She chuckles, but it falls flat as she looks up at Portia with a half-hearted smile. “I regret pretty much everything I’ve done the past three months.” 

“Not a great lead up to your birthday.” A chopstick-load of noodles pause halfway to Yana’s mouth. Portia rolls her eyes and can’t help but smile. “You forgot your own birthday, didn’t you?” 

“Sort of.” Unable to handle anything anymore, Yana places the bowl on the ground and lets herself fall back on the bed, the springs creaking as she groans. On top of everything else going on in her life, she’ll be turning another year older (but certainly not any wiser) this week, and that means some sort of party, and seeing people, and having to tell them that it’s all okay when half her life feels like a dumpster fire and the other half is a blank page. 

Portia curls up on the couch, placing her chin in her hand as she watches one of her best friends stare listlessly at the ceiling. Her voice is soft, nudging but not insistent. “This isn’t just about Ilya, is it?” 

The silence is answer enough, and it only grows heavier as the seconds tick by. Yana slowly sits up, and she can’t quite look Portia in the eye. 

But part of her wants to tell it, wants to finally let this weight off her shoulders, and so Portia prods just a little further. 

“What’s really going on, Yana?” 

A ringtone pierces the air, making both girls flinch. Yana scrambles to retrieve her cell phone from the bedside table, glancing at the caller ID before looking back up at Portia. She takes a deep breath, and accepts her fate as she answers. 

“Yana?” Julian’s voice fills the space between the two women, along with a background of hospital break room chatter. 

“Hi Ilya.” She didn’t want her voice to sound so raw and small, but there’s no hiding it anymore, and she just hopes she doesn’t start crying again. Yana keeps her eyes on the phone screen, wishing it wasn’t just a disembodied voice but all of Julian. She runs a hand through her hair, and pulls a knee up to her chest, mumbling, “You’re on speaker. Pasha’s here.” 

There’s something akin to agitation in his tone, and she can picture him tugging at his shirt collar, or gnawing on the nail of his thumb. “Right, well, I wanted to check in, and I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay, but...well  _are_ you doing okay? That last message, about the shop...” 

Portia straightens, lips parting as she looks at Yana in confusion. “What about the shop?” 

And she closes her eyes, letting this last defeat wash over her and drag her under. 

“Do you remember how Lucio danced with me at the masquerade?” 

 

* * *

 

_The music is a sharp staccato against her ears, something akin to a tango with a sinister spin as Lucio grins down at her, tightening the grip of his metal claw, not quite crushing her hand but making the possibility evident. It must be a fake hand, she reasons, but there’s something nearly electric to it, she swears._

_She steps carefully, calculating his every move, and they dance in tense silence for a moment, Yana matching him step for step._

_“I’m leaving you speechless, aren’t I?”_

_Lucio grins at her scowl, but she keeps up her silence; she knows his type, knows that he’s waiting for her to reveal her hand. It’d be a different story if he was still as belligerently drunk as at the beginning of the night, but it seems he’s sobered up – or maybe he was never that drunk to begin with._

_He spins her out and back in, just fast enough to make her dizzy._

_“Well that’s fine, I can be charming enough for the both of us.”_

_Her eyes take a quick scan of the crowd, confirming that the three people she knows aren’t anywhere in her sight – he’s amused, but ignores it in favor of saying loftily, “I had my team look you up.”_

_Yana narrows her eyes. “You don’t have better things to do?”_

_“Oh, you’re a funny one, aren’t you?” he sneers, pulling her a hair closer so that she can feel his breath on her face, smell the liquor coming off of him; at least she can confirm that at some point he was drunk. She manages to keep from flinching, but can’t hide her wince when the metal claw grips her hand ever tighter, beginning to squeeze bone. Lucio smirks, spinning her once more but going back to their distance, sufficiently satisfied that he’s made his point. He tuts, explaining, “Turns out you haven’t always been a meek little shop keep.”_

_She’s never been meek, and she bristles at the word, but bites her tongue in shame all the same. She knows exactly what he’s found, but he tells her all the same, delighting in how she can’t meet his gaze._

_“And I thought I was a problem child, but at least I didn’t get caught! Turns out you nearly got sent to juvie.” He sneers, and she swears she won’t let him make her feel small, but it’s getting harder and harder as he purrs, “Did you fall in with the wrong crowd? Try to grow up too fast?”_

_The music hits a snag, the notes stutter, and her heel stomps down so close to his foot that he can feel the force of the impact and winces._

_Her voice is a candy-coated acid in his ears. “I didn’t have daddy’s money to buy my way.”_

_It throws him off his rhythm for a moment, and he openly gapes at her. He snaps his mouth shut, and she feels the crescendo in her bones as he goes for a dip and the ace up his sleeve slides out._

_“No, and you don’t have any money now.”_

_He lifts her too quickly, sends her right into another spin, and her head is rolling on her shoulders as her stomach turns. “I do fine,” she snaps, but her voice is losing its edge and he’s leading. She tries to slide them into a forward step, but he has her walking backwards, claws digging into the skin on the back of her hand._

_“Don’t make me laugh.” And just to prove his point, he lets out a single-note of empty laughter, delighting in the way her eyes flicker around the rest of the space, searching for an escape. “You can barely keep that shop open, and you’re behind on rent.” She opens her mouth to ask how, but he beats her to the punch, pulling her close, a hand at the back of her neck as he whispers, “It’s a shame, because I would hate for such a nice spot to go to waste.”_

_She’s shaking her head, thoughts tumbling out of her mind and leaving it completely blank except for something she hasn’t felt in a very long time._

_Genuine fear._

_“What are you saying?” she asks, as though she doesn’t already know, hasn’t smelled the blood in the water or seen the shark’s fin._

_He can’t be talking about the shop, not the shop that’s been in Miram’s family for years now. Not the shop that she practically grew up in, that offered her hope when she was at her lowest. Not the shop that she inherited from Miram, that she cared for like a child, feeding it her dreams and spending long nights mulling over regrets. Not the shop that brought her Asra, and Portia, and..._

_And Julian._

_What would Julian think of her, to know that she’s just some troubled kid who grew up to be every failure the textbook said she would be?_

_She searches Lucio’s face, waiting for his answer, but he’s playing coy now, stepping away as he leads them across the floor. His gaze glides over the other dancers, a languid smile playing at his lips. “I’ve been thinking that the city could use a few more luxury condos.”_

_She steps in his way, managing to catch him by surprise and regain the lead for just a moment. “Over my dead body.”_

_His grin is salacious, and his hand is traveling up her back, settling at the back of her neck._

_He gives it a squeeze._

_“Now there’s a thought.”_

_Her eyes widen a fraction, but she refuses to flinch. She holds his stare, feeling his hold lighten and his hand travel back down to her waist as they spin somewhere in the mass of dancing bodies. The music is too loud now but she can’t hear it, and the song keeps dragging on, dragging her along with it._

_The hand in his golden claw has gone numb, and so have her feet, and her vision is fogging up. She remembers to breathe but just barely, and though she keeps looking for a sign of anyone, she’s surrounded by masks, strangers pressing in on all sides as Lucio leans in to whisper in her ear, a threat scraping the side of her neck like a knife._

_“Say goodbye to your shop, because it's going to be bulldozed before the end of the year.”_

 

* * *

 

Julian feels his heart drop to the linoleum floor, the other end of the line silent after Yana finishes. Then, so quiet he thinks he might have imagined it, Portia asks, “What can we do?” 

And he hears the beginnings of a sob edging into her voice, and suddenly he’s back in his bedroom last night, sitting with her as she cries with a busted lip and bruised hands. 

“Nothing.” 

Julian’s brows furrow. “No,” he tells them, gripping his phone a little tighter, “We’re going to try  _everything.”_  

She tries to argue with him, saying he’s too busy with his own work and this is her problem anyway, but he gives her a small smile that she can’t see. “But I want to, for you...a-and for the shop.” 

By the time he hangs up, a thought crosses his mind, one that leaves him paralyzed because it can only make everything so much more complicated. 

 

He might be in love with Yana. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of everyone's favorite doctor in this chapter, it turned a little plot-heavy (and Lucio-heavy, what a diva)
> 
> In case anyone's wondering, Yana's birthday is November 11th, making her a Scorpio, so no wonder she refuses to share any of her feelings

**Author's Note:**

> A series of one-shots and drabbles that are a little self-indulgent and based on sentence starters and prompts. If you want to send in a sentence or prompt, head over to my Tumblr at yana-of-the-arcana (or just drop me a message to say hi :) ).


End file.
